


Theros: Beyond Death

by CerberAsta



Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: Death, Destiny, Fix-It, Nightmares, Theros (Magic: The Gathering), Titans, Underworld, Using Your Trauma As A Weapon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-04-22 22:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 41,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22218922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CerberAsta/pseuds/CerberAsta
Summary: Gods can be replaced. This knowledge now churns Heliod's mind, and he seeks to elevate himself beyond all the gods of Theros. But destiny pulls him inexorably to a certain fate, and Klothys will have her way.
Comments: 70
Kudos: 27





	1. Titanomachy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is a fix-it because... we got no story this time. Anyways, because of the lackluster details, I'm having to fill in a lot of gaps! Notably here, I made up two new Titans loosely based on the art and from some of the depictions on the cards. Oh well!

The first god was Kruphix, God of Mystery, and that was not an accident. Before even his emergence, the greatest forces on Theros were the Titans. They ruined the land upon which they walked, and none of them were ever still for long. 

There was vile Kroxa, the inexorable Hunger of Death. He scraped up whole forests which he stuffed into his wretched, many-eyed maw and dragged his teeth-covered arms across villages.

The calmest was Uro, the Wrath of Nature, but in those days, his calm was still perilous. The seas of Theros were never safe, for he was prone to roam whenever one of his fellow Titans set to agitating him. Seas churned and entire islands would wash away when his ire was up.

Then there was Eupito, the Burden of Life. She was the least hated of the Titans but no less calamitous. Life bloomed in her wake-- too much. Plant life would surge as she passed, creating massive clumps of vegetation so thick and deep they would choke out in painful days. Beasts grew to new sizes and rippled with a new level of hunger that propelled them to fight savagely with one another. Kroxa often followed at a safe distance.

Last of all was Talbos, the Betrayal of Time, least understood but most unsettling. If you were fated to die at the tooth-encrusted hands of Kroxa or the spurious blasts of Uro, it would at least be quick. Eupito's monsters ran rampant, but the people of Theros could hold their ground against them after a time. Talbos was not quick and none could go against her. She held villages frozen in time, the citizens' minds untouched but their bodies unable to move. People would age into dust or revert to children as they charged her. There was all sorts of chaos that Theros could not even identify-- how could you tell what was always and what had been changed?

In the face of such misery, Theros did not have hope or victory or even the meager beginnings of a city. What they had were questions, and from those endless questions came Kruphix. He would represent, ultimately, a new beginning. A Horizon.

Kruphix was deeply introspective and was, indeed, the only god to ever truly fathom his own creation meaningfully without outward forces pressing him to do so. He understood the whispers always present within his dream-like form were the incidental prayers of his people. These prayers were not focused or even directed at him-- but prayers they were still. 

Kruphix never dared to challenge the Titans in those early days-- he'd seen their work and knew that he wasn't capable of going against them. Not yet. He cloaked himself as an old man in blue robes and roamed from settlement to settlement, camp to camp, forest to forest.

He spoke with the humans, the leonin, the satyrs, the centaurs, the merfolk, and even the minotaurs. Kruphix's insights were not welcomed by all, even with demonstration of his godhood, but seeds were planted.

"Believe in a better tomorrow," Kruphix told them, "And you can create one."

The people's minds moved Nyx slowly, but moved it was. Kruphix guided the thoughts and prayers. He performed miracles to inspire greater devotion and could, in some respects, be considered the architect of his colleagues.

**_I believe that Theros’ destiny is not death_ **

And so emerged Hearth-Stoking Klothys, needle and thread in hand, eyes looking towards a future she would forge with fire and will. She would usher in a destiny the Titans could not bear.

**_I believe in a day where the sun will shine again_ **

And so emerged Sun-Crowned Heliod, spear in hand, eyes narrowed in ferocious judgment. He would usher in an order that the Titans could not disrupt.

**_I believe in a fire that can burn away our troubles and remake the world better_ **

And so emerged Bronze-Blooded Purphoros, hammer in hand, eyes looking towards inventions he had not forged yet. He would usher in a fervor so vigorous Titans could not stop it.

**_I believe in a sea that is calm and full of life_ **

And so emerged Deep-Dwelling Thassa, bident in hand, eyes wide and appreciative of her vast domain. She would usher in a quiet the Titans could not overturn.

**_I believe in a world with answers that make sense to those who look_ **

And so emerged Time-Wisened Kruphix in full force, shroud in hand, eyes looking towards a horizon he would remake himself for the denizens of Theros to hope for. He would usher in an era of knowledge that the Titans could not stand against.

** _I believe in a world where we and our animals might roam without worry_ **

And so emerged Keen-Eyed Nylea, bow in hand, eyes looking towards a domain ravaged by monsters and eager to hunt. She would usher in a stampede so ferocious no Titan could divert it.

** _I believe in a world where the paths are clear_ **

And so emerged Shroud-Veiled Athreos, oar in hand, eyes looking towards a thousand thousand lost souls in need of a shepherd. He would usher in a peace so final the Titans could not argue.

**_I believe in a death great enough to claim even the Titans_ **

And so emerged Bleak-Hearted Erebos, whip in hand, eyes focused on all the lives which would slowly come to his domain. He would usher in a peace the Titans could not escape.

As the gods took shape, the Titans took notice, and clashes would rock Theros for years. None of the gods stood a chance at first, but they didn’t need to. As the gods fought, survived, and even defended the denizens of their world, the people’s devotion increased and the tides of battle shifted.

Nylea and Kruphix brought Uro down first. Perhaps he was truly just tired of it all. Kruphix’s great magic surged through the air and cracked the sky. Nyxblood rained over the seas and Uro raised his head to see the intruders. Nylea’s arrows came in waves. Uro launched tsunamis at the gods, great waves of water and wind. Elemental giants of wind and water rushed out to fight, but Kruphix’s mysterious gates were there to receive them. The giants were whisked far away, and Nylea’s assault continued. She brought out twin daggers which she plunged into Uro’s eyes, and the Titan’s life ceased.

That victory took days to achieve, but it was well worth it. All of Theros rumbled and buzzed with the news. Kroxa snarled that it was a fluke. That Uro was weak.

Next was Eupito, felled by Athreos and Erebos. Athreos summoned a great, death-riddled river that even Eupito’s abundant magic could not cross. The Titan ran up and down the river, summoning vast, surging elementals on Athreos’ side, but the ferryman could not be dissuaded from his task. Erebos’ whip wrapped around the hideous bull and brought it down. Eupito lowed pitiful as it finally ebbed away.

Talbos insisted that Eupito was foolish and too out of sorts to put up a true fight. These gods could not challenge _ her _, but she shuddered as she told this to Kroxa. 

The Betrayal of Time would soon eat her words as Thassa and Purphoros came for her. An army of bronze soldiers surged towards her keep from one side while great waves of creatures from the ocean crashed against it from the other side. Talbos tried to unwork the bronze automatons and crumble the sea monsters, but even her powers were overwhelmed. Purphoros’ hammer and Thassa’s bident struck at her again and again, power surging. Time held no sway over the gods, for they were immaterially timeless, and Talbos met her end.

Kroxa gawked as the death of his sister coursed through his veins. Alone, he faced down Klothys and Heliod. The white-cloaked god shone so bright with the worship of Theros that he very nearly resembled the sun. His spear pinned Kroxa to the earth, and he could not devour the light which paralyzed him. Klothys wove a circlet around his neck and gouged his body with fire. He screamed as he perished. Klothys did not stop weaving.

But the memories of the Titans were too powerful, and the earth stirred as their purely elemental forces began to regather. 

“I have a destiny which I can place upon the dead Titans. We must carry their remains deep within the Underworld, and they shall be restrained there,” Klothys said, “Though destiny alone shall not keep them.”

“It shall be done,” Heliod rumbled.

The eight gods of Theros carried the shattered, battered remains of their predecessors down into Erebos’ domain. As they threw the elemental scraps of the Titans into the deepest pit of the Underworld, Heliod turned towards Klothys.

“You said that destiny alone shall not keep them. What did you mean?”

Klothys looked to the god of the sun and her voice rang through the empty Underworld. Her hair danced behind her, and the censer she wielded glowed with untold power.

“One day, the Titans will escape, and the King of the Gods will step down to end their reign of terror.”

Heliod had not had time to consider his role in the future pantheon, but in that moment, he knew he was to be king. No other level would satisfy his desire for power. To be told his reign would end before it had even begun was too much. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. 

“Theros should be dealt such a terrible blow, Klothys, do you not agree?” he snarled.

“I would not hope for such a thing.”

“Can we all agree that the Titans should never again see the sun?” Heliod asked, turning to survey his colleagues.

Each of them nodded or rumbled in agreement. Purphoros eyed him suspiciously. 

“Then we might agree that someone should stay to guard the Titans,” Heliod said, “And that someone should be _ Klothys _, to make up for her inability to weave a more fortunate destiny for her people.”

Purphoros snarled and brought up his hammer. Klothys held up a hand.

“I shall do this, Heliod, for I put Theros and its destiny above all. My weavings shall still reach the surface, but if they go off-track, you shall find a harsher destiny awaits you, Sun-Crowned.”

Klothys’ eyes were covered, but Heliod felt her gaze upon him. A flicker of fear burst to life there and would never leave him. The god of the sun never slept. If he had, he would only have nightmares about the way she looked at him. And then the moment ended. She turned her back on Heliod entirely and walked down towards the pit. A great golden door appeared behind her, and the Titans were sealed with their jailer.

***

Not long after was it that Erebos himself was also confined to the Underworld, though he could roam it entirely. He visited Klothys from time to time, speaking to her through the golden wall. That little room became Klothys’ domain, and she wove it into such a center of power that even four Titans could not stand against her there. Destiny held sway. Centuries passed in a blur as Klothys fought against the Titans. She cleansed their remains with great gouts of fire and kept herself going with immaculate resolve. In times of quiet, when the Titans had to focus to reform, Klothys would look to the Overworld. Heliod had kept to his word-- Theros’ destiny had gone as intended.

But one day, something changed. It had changed when a satyr disappeared from Theros. This had happened many times throughout Therosian history, but it was the first time someone particularly entangled in Therosian destiny had done so. Many of these anomalies were easily corrected with a nudge here or a push there, but this satyr had been woven delicately into dozens of lines. Klothys’ fists clenched.

And then one day, not long after, he returned. Changed. His tapestry had rotted in his time away from Theros, and Klothys nearly screamed at the damage he enacted on the dozen lines he connected with. Xenagos was meant to become a great leader of the satyrs. A cynical one to be sure, who would make many mistakes, but would inevitably lead something of an enlightenment amongst them. Gather the satyrs and encourage them to better engage with the other sapient races of Theros.

But instead… he nearly slaughtered all of Theros in a revelry so powerful that it launched him into Nyx and took from her power. Klothys was ill at ease for the time when the Great Reveler tore through Theros, until something strange happened. A stray strand reappeared. A girl whom Klothys had glimpsed only once before-- had, in fact, used to keep the fight between Heliod and Purphoros from escalating into a war which could release the Titans prematurely, came through. She slew Xenagos, and Klothys’ heart swelled. She could use the girl to set right all of Xenagos’ wrongs… And she began to sew. 

The Great Reveler had perished in Nyx. His essence returned to Klothys. Her unease lifted. In her joy at having full force once more, she almost failed to notice the strange ember of power which came back with the power. She examined it curiously and tucked it away into her strings for use at a later time.

Just as Klothys almost turned away from Nyx and the Overworld, her joy turned to sorrow. Heliod’s spear sprouted from Elspeth’s back. Klothys snarled and ignited great towers of fire which she rained down on the partially-formed Titans in her rage. She pulled the strange ember and summoned Nyxian essence, which she began furiously weaving into a new being.

“Heliod prematurely pulled Elspeth from the fabric of this world’s destiny… so I’ll put her back, and use his blood to do it…”

She looked up into Nyx, and her gaze fell upon Heliod. Even from there, he could feel her hateful eyes. And a millenia-old fear blossomed anew.


	2. Heliod's Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heliod considers his options.

Meletis celebrates its founding at the start of each decade, and it is the premiere event. Philosopher-Kings, envoys from the other poleis, leaders of lesser settlements, and even certain non-human groups interested in maintaining peace would appear. The Birth of Meletis festivities last two weeks and represented the dawn of hope for not only Meletis but for its neighboring poleis, as it was believed by Ephara’s people that they were the greatest bastion against the destitution brought by arrogance, ignorance, and uncivilized behaviors.

All of Meletis focused on Ephara as their primary god, but each of the other gods were given special focus on different days of the festival. Dances, plays, art exhibits, concerts, and all sorts of wonderful celebrations popped up in the course of the day to venerate one of Theros’ gods. Mogis’ day was a bit more subdued given his role in the Akros-Minotaur war, but even he had worshippers chanting the importance of giving into emotion and living out your wildest dreams.

Some of the gods appeared for the celebrations, while others were busy. Erebos always sent a small crew of lampads to witness the entirety of it for him, as he was bound to the Underworld. Many of the gods would appear for their day, perhaps lingering a little before or after out of casual politeness. Ephara, of course, was there for all of it. This year, for the first time in human memory, Heliod had not yet shown his face. He traditionally stayed for all of it as well, but something had changed. Humans had pulled away from his light.

It was that wretched _ Champion’s _ fault. She had threatened his sovereignty. She had killed a god and pulled worshippers from even Heliod’s greatest circles towards her. He had heard them in the streets, chanting the greatness of Elspeth, her cloak and spear so bright and powerful they’d eclipsed the sun. Eclipsed _ him _? Paltry. He’d showed them the error of their ways, and they pulled away.

For a time, that leonin wandered Theros and howled his wretched songs which disavowed Heliod as a disgraced traitor and vile king. Heliod knew he could not smite this one-- it would go too far. He simply needed patience. So Heliod waited, and pulled away in kind. Let the humans forget, as they often did, and their rage would dissipate. 

That did not mean Heliod wouldn’t _ actually _ miss the celebration, however. He appeared in the guise of an old man, with a withered, white beard. The horns which proudly adorned his head were now placed like a necklace. He exchanged his golden robes for a more subdued gray and blue. None suspected. He watched a play about a foolish mortal who asked to fly as high as he had. It was gently entertaining to watch the mortal playing him stride out with confidence, though he did not enjoy the sneer which had developed in this recent adaptation. 

A gently annoyed Heliod strode out into the streets. He looked at a remarkable weaving of his spear flying through the sky, blasting away the night and bringing in a dawn. Other similar works all displayed his Khrusor in flight, either heralding the dawn or striking towards one of Theros’ many monsters. He smiled at the artist selling wares.

“You’ve got quite a few images of Heliod’s spear,” the god said, “What’s the story?”

“Well, when I was but a child, my father and I were on a little trip to Akros to visit my aunt. She was in the games, and we were very excited but… a terrible chimera attacked us out in the wilds. It roared so loud it shook the trees, but Heliod’s spear appeared from nowhere. He skewered the beast and continued his flight elsewhere, but I never forgot. I looked up and saw him… majestic, powerful. He was busy, clearly, in a hurry to get somewhere, but he spared a moment and saved our lives…”

Heliod thought hard and could only barely remember the day in question. He’d been on his way to find out what Purphoros was doing. A cursed day indeed, when he discovered the fated Godsend. Heliod furrowed his brow and looked towards the crafts.

“How much for this one?” he asked, pointing a feeble finger at the one which depicted Khrusor most accurately.

She smiled humbly and offered a price. Awfully low, and Heliod recognized that.

“You sell yourself short, my dear. Your devotion is evident and the craftsmanship is incredible.”

The artist lowered her head.

“It is harder these days to sell these pieces, but… Heliod is still my favored god. How could he not be? I can hardly find any other well to draw inspiration from. But after that dreadful night, well, my wares aren’t worth as much.”

Heliod leaned forward and placed twice as much coin as she’d asked in her hand. She started to protest, but he placed his other hand and pushed her hand down with the coin still in it.

“Heliod hears your pleas, child,” the god said quietly, “And even if others do not understand, you have, and your god will reward your steadfast faith. These are not just your wares but your heart. And your heart is always priceless.”

Tears welled in the girl’s eyes as Heliod walked away with the craft bundled under one arm. As soon as he turned a corner, the bundle disappeared into Nyx. It reminded him of a bright spot, a singular point in his life which burned so spectacularly that it could never be forgotten. If he wanted to undo the blemish upon his light, Heliod would have to recapture that.

In the neighboring square, Meletis’ celebrations were in full volume. Several different dance groups were performing. There were a handful of opera singers at opposite ends of the square, and the noise was relentless. For a satyr party, it would have been the equivalent of crickets, but it was almost unbearable by everyday Meletis standards. Even with such sensory overload, there was an overwhelming amount of attention to a strange man in the center of the southern section of the square. 

It took Heliod but a split-second to recognize him as Nyxborn-- the twisting, glittering, starry pattern appeared like a sheen over his hair, along a portion of his exposed chest and through some of his green-and-gold clothing. He had icy blue eyes, something unnatural behind them that made Heliod shudder. He watched the unusual specimen as the Nyxborn wove artwork in minutes. Thousands of strings moved at his beck and call, weaving together into art before the eyes of dazzled citizens. So much thread in the air made Heliod nervous for reasons he could not articulate.

The strange artist had crafted great visions of Nyx. Of Setessans fighting Nyxborn wolves. Of Meletis battering away the great tentacles of a kraken. Of Akroans skewering minotaurs. The fallout during Kruphix’s last Silence. Heliod chafed a little at the reminder and at the clear lack of his image in a celebration of _ him _, but the artist clearly wasn’t finished. Heliod watched the swirling threads gather into an image, and if he truly had a stomach, it would have dropped when he realized the end result. It was a depiction of Heliod alright. It was him as he skewered his former Champion with her own weapon.

Heliod tugged on the invisible chains which wrapped around even him. The inevitable destiny still lingered, and he could not yet break those chains. He wasn’t strong enough, and this foul Nyxborn wasn’t _ helping _ matters any.

“Seems rather pitiful to focus on such a thing, hm?” Heliod asked.

“The God of the Sun is a sham,” snapped the Nyxborn, “He has defied destiny for too long, and he risks churning all of Theros for his own ego.”

The artist’s audience shifted suddenly. They weren’t put off, but they were unsettled. Favor still rested with Heliod, but it was not so dedicated as it once was.

“How can you know?”

The Nyxborn stared into Heliod’s eyes, and there was something familiar there. A gaze that has been locked on him for decades.

_ Does he know who I am? What I am? _

Heliod tightened his hands, as the audience’s attention focused less on the art and more on the artist.

_ Impossible. _

“Elspeth’s death is all the proof I need.”

Murmurs circuited the crowd. Heliod leaned on his staff and tried to present a peaceful smile, ignoring the storm brewing in his heart. He would have struck this fool down if it were anywhere else, on any other day. His follower’s words stirred in the back of his mind. One night changed everything.

“Could it be,” Heliod asked, “That Elspeth was the greater threat to Theros?”

The Nyxborn loudly scoffed. 

“She, who slew foul Polukranos, devourer of cities?”

As he spoke, the weavings accelerated. They were more rudimentary in the haste, less fine details. But no less beautiful or terrifying in their impact. An image of Polukranos destroying a settlement. Elspeth charging the hydra. Elspeth standing atop its corpse.

“She, who aided great Anax and Cymede in their greatest battle against the foul hordes of minotaurs and washed them away?”

An image of Elspeth leading Akroans against an army of minotaurs. Another of Elspeth and Anax fighting the Rageblood. A final of a great river elemental blasting the minotaurs away.

“She, who killed the Pretender and ended the chaos which threatened to tear Theros apart?” 

Heliod’s eyes narrowed as the image of Xenagos swirling up into godhood appeared. His fist clenched seeing the rampaging satyr god fighting against Elspeth. The third, of Elspeth bringing Godsend into Xenagos’ chest, chilled him even now.

“In what way was she a threat to us, old man?”

“Xenagos was a monster who struck out to become a god. Could it not be that Elspeth had been doing the same?” Heliod said sternly, “That she wished to ascend like he had done? She murdered a great prophet the night before Xenagos ascended. Once she killed one god, would she stop there? Any god who slighted her would have to fear Godsend. Better that chaos be laid to rest then, before all of Theros trembled before a new Pretender…”

More weavings appeared behind the Nyxborn.

“I have divined Elspeth’s past. She is from far away, but she has always been a hero.”

Elspeth fighting strange hordes of demons, alongside terrifyingly immense angels and leonin. Clashing with terrible creatures, too many angled limbs and dripping some foul substance Heliod did not understand. The Nyxborn leaned forward until he and the god were hardly inches apart, his voice now hardly more than a whisper. 

“She has always been a hero,” snarled the Nyxborn, “And you have done damage to worlds you cannot even begin to fathom with your selfish recklessness.”

Heliod froze, and the Nyxborn straightened.

“Who are you?” Heliod asked quietly.

“My name is Calix,” said the Nyxborn, “And I am an emissary.”

The words were out of Heliod’s mouth before he could stop.

“Whose?”

The Nyxborn artist’s mouth turned up at the corner. A clump of Calix’s strings moved unbidden and covered his eyes like a mask. The chains of destiny rattled around Heliod’s soul, and he was overcome with a fear too powerful to cast away. He turned immediately and stalked through the seething mass of people who had gathered. 

“Should the god wish to undo the damage he has done!” Calix yelled over the crowd, “He should do what Elspeth would have, were she alive!”

Heliod scowled. The moment he was certain no one’s eyes were upon him, he dissolved and ascended back into Nyx. His constellation roamed the sky as he angrily paced and considered his evening. 

It would be a long night, but when Heliod emerged the next morning to bring the hopeful message of dawn, he had a plan.

***

The Meletis festival carried on for the rest of the week, and Heliod watched quietly. He observed the various gods mingling with their mortals, talking and laughing and carrying on in their own respective manner. Even Nylea appeared for an hour or two on her day to witness an archery competition. The day after it was over, Heliod made his move.

Iroas had returned to his place above Akros. He had tried to stay in the constellations these days-- not many clashes had been happening, and he wasn’t as needed. But that would change. Heliod appeared in the Nyxspace by the great centaur, Khrusor in hand, eyes bright.

“We have been languishing in Nyx too long, my friend,” Heliod said.

Iroas turned his gaze towards Heliod. His eyes were hidden in the shadows of his helmet, but Heliod felt judgment there. He ignored it, stuffed down his prideful reactions. This had to work.

“Theros has been suffering,” Heliod said, “Few great heroes have arrived since my Champion.”

“And whose fault is that?” Iroas snarled.

Heliod turned his head away.

“We have all made mistakes, Iroas. I haven’t seen much of Anax lately? Did he not take well to Cymede’s disappearance?”

Iroas stilled. Heliod looked up again.

“Our people need us,” Heliod said, “Our Poleis are in mourning, and they lack the hope they need to inspire them to greater heights. It’s time we roam wild and free again, and put to the spear those who strike fear in our people’s hearts.”

Heliod raised his hand in offering. Iroas eyed it warily.

“I propose an alliance. Our first order of business will be to deal with your brother.”

The old rivarly stirred what passed for blood within Iroas and made his soul thrum. He clasped Heliod’s hand in his own, and they struck out.

***

Mogis manifested just above a canyon in Phoberos. He watched a gruesome battle between two alpha minotaurs take place. They were vicious brutes who had led many hateful raids against the Akroan people and had found favor in Mogis, but not with each other. Mogis leaned over and stared with his burning red eyes. 

Two forms blasted down from Nyx, manifesting physically mere feet behind the God of Slaughter. Their immense, towering forms cast a vast shadow over the canyon. Mogis turned around and grew to his true size. He slavered and snarled.

“What is this, brother?” Mogis bellowed.

His voice rumbled through the badlands, shaking them violently. Minotaurs awakened for miles around, their bloodlust soaring to a fever pitch. It would not be long before they gave into violence and took up arms against anything they saw.

“A decision,” Iroas said, “For the sake of Theros.”

Mogis began walking towards the side, his axe scraping the ground as he watched the two gods who intruded on his territory. Iroas gripped his polearm tight, while Heliod held his spear, ready but down for the moment. Mogis slowly circled them, his axe grinding the beginnings of a new canyon as he went.

“I understand why you might appear, brother. We spar for the sake of it. But why has pompous Heliod deigned to dirty his hands? Has that foul girl’s death brought him so low?”

Heliod raised his spear and narrowed his eyes.

“We work for a better tomorrow,” Heliod said.

“A better tomorrow for who?” Mogis asked.

He raised his axe and pointed it at the two gods.

“The people of Theros,” Iroas said.

They fought then, and the battle shook all of Theros. Rumbles ran out as far as the Nessian wilds. The Akroan people became uneasy. Forgemasters took out their bellows. Gladiators sharpened their blades. Leaders, disorganized with their King missing, nonetheless began planning fervently. 

Mogis’ axe found its mark in both Heliod and Iroas, but the gods stayed the course, and their weapons struck Mogis in turn. Iroas blocked a strike from Mogis with his shield and brought up his polearm to lock Mogis’ axe-arm in place.

“Take him now,” Iroas snarled.

Heliod launched Khrusor through Mogis’ chest.

“Go back to Nyx,” Heliod snarled, “And lick your wounds like the beast you are.”

Mogis locked eyes with Heliod and he snorted.

“You will regret this,” Mogis thundered.

His form dissolved and black-and-red streaks of light blasted high into the sky. The constellation of the Blood-Soaked God had dimmed and faded but remained in the sky. It glowered at Heliod and Iroas.

The Battle-Charged God looked towards Heliod and nodded.

“Our work is not yet done,” Heliod said, “These minotaurs are in a frenzy, and they’ll break for Akros soon. Let us call upon the heroes and lead the charge.”

The days ahead were long and filled with the clamor of battle. Swords met minotaur flesh, and two gods filled the battle with their glorious light. They guided the Akroan heroes blades to meet their marks and turned aside the bellowing beasts’ strikes. 

And by the end, the Akroan people chanted Heliod’s and Iroas’ name in concert. The Sun-Crowned God grinned. His chains felt light, movable, though not yet breakable.

He turned his imperious gaze towards Setessa and Life-Blessed Karametra.

***

Karametra took more time to convince, as she was not naturally eager for a fight. Heliod turned up evidence of Pharika’s blights upon her crops. He pleaded for days and showed her the diseased bodies of Setessan orphans. She relented. 

Stone-Eyed Ephara was easier in many respects to ally himself with. She understood the order of things and felt that no other god should be struck down, but Heliod emphasized the temporary nature of it. Order would return, but Meletis would be stronger in the meantime. Fewer Therosians would suffer Phenax’s cruelty. His lies would not be able to upturn her city or her will.

Khrusor skewered both Pharika and Phenax, and the gods who placed seeds of chaos in Theros scrambled back to Nyx to resolve their wounds and hold themselves together. Their constellations dimmed, and Heliod’s shone brighter and brighter as Setessa and and Meletis took up his chants alongside Iroas.

All of Theros turned their eyes with reverence for Heliod, and the memory of that dreadful night began to erode in their minds. 

Heliod rode the sun down for dusk and looked out one last time over Theros before he would take back up into Nyx. A rattling voice echoed out from the Underworld, a snarling venomous note in it.

“Do not reach too high, brother, or _ my _ Champion will come to cut you down.”

Even as the chains felt lighter than ever, Heliod felt fear blossom anew in his soul. 

***

And just outside that same Underworld, a green-and-gold Nyxborn approached. Calix stared into the entrance. Harpies sat outside, laughing screechily as mortals whimpered before Athreos. A thin one looked down from her perch at the approaching creation.

“Calix,” Aphemia said in a voice like daggers on a tombstone.

He glanced up at her but said nothing. Calix just continued his stroll towards the Underworld. Aphemia and two other harpies landed just feet in front of him, their talons up. Drool formed at the corner of their mouths as their reddening eyes focused on him.

“What does a simpering artist want in the Underworld?” Aphemia asked.

Calix brought up one arm and two dozen needles flew. They struck the harpies on either side of Aphemia and laid them low, bleeding out on the ground. String from those needles wrapped around Aphemia’s throat and she fell to the ground, gasping for air. Calix stepped over her as if she were little more than a nuisance. He didn’t even cast her a glance.

And so began his descent into the Underworld.


	3. Elspeth's Arrival & Ashiok's Descent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elspeth adjusts to paradise. Ashiok does not.

The Underworld is known to hold five distinct regions. Phylias is for those who let life pass them by. All hard edges and bleak stone, it exhudes an aura which crushes the will of its pitiful dead. Nerono is for the ill-willed philosophers or those who were spiteful towards knowledge in other ways-- its waters cause endless forgetfulness, while often leaving just the barest hints of what they used to know. Tizerus is a bleak pit full of those who schemed against their fellows, all crumbling rocks and endless oblivion, filled with monsters all too willing to devour the weak. Agonas is pure torment reserved for those who tried to defy the gods-- bursting lava, rivers of boiling blood, with horrifying creatures stomping about to punish the mortals who rose above their place.

Ilysia, however, is for heroes. A rewarding afterlife. Luxurious in its presentation and magnificent in its splendors. It was a massive island with three, long, winding rivers with plenty of dips and bends and even a few ponds. Gorgeous orchards full of bountiful fruit which never went foul covered the paradise. Its people were sparse, but they were never far apart and always enjoyed company.

Elspeth Tirel had come here. Theros recognized her worth. She had not allowed life to go by but instead seized it with both hands. She sought out knowledge and self-betterment in the service of others. She did not scheme against her fellows but united them. And even when the gods turned on her, she never blasphemed them. 

The Knight-Errant was a curiosity in how well she inspired people in spite of how distant she tended to be. She enjoyed the happiness of others, but she wasn’t quick to get too close. She had seen too many people taken away to get attached. Her life had been horror after horror, and it had taken time for her wounds to be salved by Ilysia’s natural aura. Ilysia did not cause one to forget pain like Nerono, it merely… dimmed those memories and lessened the pain. In the interim, Ilysians knew to provide space. No hero went through life without trauma, and they had all eventually learned how to handle it.

Kleoste had been a particularly helpful Ilysian during Elspeth’s transition into death. He was an immense figure bedecked in a curious Bronzehide cape and skirt with no shirt. While not all Ilysians were physical fighters (quite a few philosophers had made it in on their own merits), he was certainly the apex of a traditional gladiator hero. Kleoste had spent his entire life wandering Theros, saving towns from nearby monsters. 

“Oi, brunette,” Kleoste first greeted her, “How’s it going?”

Elspeth hadn’t been sure how to respond. Kleoste cracked a grin as he watched her fidget. 

“That’s alright, it’ll take a bit to process your death,” Kleoste rumbled, “Feel free to ask around when you get the want, alright?”

Elspeth nodded numbly at the time, and Kleoste walked off. He tended to whistle in his idle moments, and the tune stayed with her as she wandered through Ilysia. The dryads who tended its groves stayed at a respectful distance, though she eventually picked up the gumption to ask what the fruit was.

The dryad tilted his head and smiled.

“It’s whatever you want. Othyliod says they taste like toasted apples most of the time, occasionally like olives and fresh bread. Kleoste rumbles about garlic-roasted boar and deer steaks.”

Tentative but aware of a mild hunger growing in her… did she have a body? Or a stomach? She wasn’t sure, but Elspeth felt strangely solid. Whatever the case, she plucked a fruit and bit gently into it. There was a strange sensation of the solid fruit dissolving into soup. Warmth flooded her body (such as it was!) and the taste sent her spiraling through her memories on Alara. The carrot soup had been a specialty of one of the chefs she had gotten to know for a little while, and it brought a smile to her face for the first time since she’d awoken in Ilysia.

She eventually did seek out Kleoste. Talking felt strange but welcome. He quickly grasped the flow of their conversation and rode it out. Elspeth wasn’t much of a boast or even a talker, but she enjoyed stories. Kleoste had many-- from his own life and from the other heroes.

“Well, with three chimera and a manticore on our heels, Drimaeus and I leaped down into the forest…”

“Drimaeus? I thought you were with Hector?” Elspeth asked.

“Hector was the boyfriend  _ before _ Drimaeus,” Kleoste said, “He and I fought gangs of harpies in the northern canyons.”

Elspeth smiled and nodded. Kleoste continued his story and settled in for a meal. They got up afterwards and went for a gentle run. It felt good to have the wind at their face and something like the sun on them. It couldn’t be a real sun, but something in the Ilysian air felt the same. 

“How did you die?” Elspeth asked one day.

“Oh,” Kleoste said nonchalantly, “I went to bed one night. One of my ex-boyfriends came in and poisoned me. I heard they threw him to a manticore for it, but honestly? I get it. I’d have been mad if I lost me, too.”

Elspeth blinked.

“You?”

The Knight-Errant looked up, her eyes shifting out of focus. How was it? Those days seemed fuzzy.

“I killed… a god,” Elspeth said quietly, “And then a god came for me.”

Kleoste furrowed his brow and leaned forward. He tilted his head a little, and then sprung up.

“Oh! You’re  _ her _ . The one who killed that Usurper. Come with me!”

He grabbed her by the wrist and took off. Kleoste was well-practiced and Elspeth stumbled a time or two, but it never hurt. She spurted out attempted questions, but he just grunted and kept running. They finally stopped at the edge of the grove, where a gorgeous, stone building stood. Pillars stood at the front of the immaculate house, with golden doors.

“Come on! They were curious when you’d show up!”

“Who?”

Kleoste huffed and opened the doors. Elspeth peered in to see a table set with fruits from the grove and bronze cups. She couldn’t clearly see what was inside the cups, but it smelled of alcohol. All around sat all kinds of Therosians-- humans, leonin, satyrs, centaurs. Two humans in the center looked familiar to Elspeth, though she couldn’t for the life of her think why.

“Oi! She did make it here!” Kleoste bellowed.

“Who?” a leonin growled.

“The god-killer! Elspeth’s her name,” Kleoste said. 

The two men in the center stood up abruptly. Elspeth thought of a pair of statues she had seen once and blinked. 

“Are you the… feuding lords of Meletis?” she asked.

The taller man, dark in complexion than the man beside him, let out a low, rumbling laugh. The shorter of the two put his arm around the other.

“I am Kynaios,” said the taller man, “And this is my husband, Tiro. We only feud when Tiro forgets to change the sheets.”

Tiro elbowed Kynaios.

“Or when you forget to put away dishes,” he said.

Folks at the table chuckled in amusement. Elspeth watched them for a moment, a smile pulling up the corner of her mouth. 

“So, you are the god-killer,” Kynaios asked, “We’ve heard some stories about you, starting with Polukranos’ fall. My husband was particularly keen on hearing your story. Would you permit us to intrude on your life story, Elspeth Tirel, Champion of the Sun?”

Bright light filled Elspeth’s vision-- the second time she saw Heliod. He had claimed to have been testing her, though she now wondered how true that was. A queasiness filled her. Kleoste’s hand suddenly pressed against her shoulder.

“You seem a little out of it, woman,” Kleoste said, “Sit down and have a glass. I’m sure Tiro would love to talk about their fight against Agnomakhos while you consider.”

Elspeth nodded and took the chair offered her. She sat and sipped. All eyes were on her. The liquid warmed her essence and gave her a strange focus she hadn’t felt since she was alive.

“To tell the truth of it,” Elspeth started slowly, finding her voice, “I am… not from this world.”

The eyes of those at the table watched her with increasing curiosity. Elspeth talked briefly about her first planeswalk and what it entailed. Her eager audience had dozens of questions but Tiro quelled them to hear the story. She pushed forward, talking briefly of her time on Alara before her inevitable return to Theros.

They listened with rapt attention as she described the fight against Polukranos, the slow war against the minotaurs. She stumbled and finally stopped as her mind became stuck on the night Xenagos ascended. 

“It’s okay,” Kynaios said, “We can wait to hear the rest.”

Elspeth shook her head. She took another drink and slowly found the threads of the story. Elspeth did not think much of herself, but she had a way with words. They threaded her magic with the inspiration she needed to summon an army and render it unbreakable. She would never claim any fancy accolades for her storytelling herself, but she had a firmness in her speech that drew in the audience.

A satyr began weeping as she described waking up to find Daxos skewered on her spear. Elspeth clenched her hands into fists for a moment before moving on with the tale. Xenagos’ ascension and rumbling. Journeying with Ajani and Kiora towards an entrance into Nyx. Taking Erebos’ trial, which she was keen to skip over. In spite of Tiro’s obvious interest, he did not press her for those details. Elspeth described the fight with Xenagos, and the room cheered as she spoke of the final blow.

And then she relayed Heliod’s pursuit. Even with the strange liquid warming and revitalizing her, she had trouble remembering those details. But she remembered his spite and anger at her. Kynaios’ eyes narrowed. Tiro clenched his goblet tight.

“You’ve been through a great deal, then,” Kynaios said.

Elspeth nodded. She took another drink and found the goblet had at last emptied.

“But it was worth it. Theros is safe. I’ve fixed… I’ve fixed my mistake. Daxos is alive. I hope he is finding happiness up there,” Elspeth said softly.

“Hear, hear!” a minotaur at the end loudly cheered.

They slammed their goblets together and loudly toasted their newest dinner guest. The night was full of jovial laughter and song. Elspeth was grateful to no longer be directly in the spotlight, though some attention always drifted her way. She found happiness in it all. And later on, when she went to bed, she dreamed of her pleasant evening.

Everything was truly perfect.

***

While Elspeth Tirel was enjoying paradise, Ashiok was working on tearing it all down. They had come to Theros with a peculiar interest in the burgeoning dreamscape. The nightmares of its people were no less vivid than any other plane but their relationship to Nyx made the dreamstuff interesting and more potent in many regards. When calamity struck the plane, and that empty-headed satyr made a pathetic move towards godhood, Ashiok had  _ such _ material to work with.

But something had happened in recent weeks. Ashiok had largely stuck to nocturnal excursions for obvious reasons, so they hadn’t been able to find the source of the problem. Its people’s nightmares had dwindled. Ashiok stalked the countryside, only finding pleasant, easy dreamers. Even their influence could only stir up some much extra fear. Efforts failed to drum up the nightmares they needed to keep up the game.

So Ashiok began sleuthing. They left the poleis and wandered through the wilds. Monsters roamed far in the great forests and near the mountains, but Ashiok noticed a pattern-- they were being driven from the poleis. Meletis, Akros, and Setessa seemed to have a bubble keeping monsters away. Curious.

Ashiok rarely suffered the sight of dawn, but it was a special occasion. They had questions, and it seemed only the day would bear out an answer. So the Nightmare Weaver crept along the outer walls of Meletis and stuck to the shadows, impossible to perceive by all but the most perceptive. They waited but not for long. The night had been productive.

A terrible dragon came screeching across the sky. Mount Velus had been, as of yet, untouched by whatever scourge had seen fit to rending Ashiok from their precious fuel. It descended upon Meletis with a fervor even Ashiok had to admire but in vain. Ephara materialized in an instant and smashed the dragon across its fiery maw, sending it spiraling to the side. That wasn’t unexpected, but the next visitor was. 

Heliod himself manifested in a golden trail from Nyx, Khrusor high above his head. The Sun-Crowned plunged the spear into the dragon and pinned it to the ground. The dragon snarled piteously and let loose a defiant plume of bright-yellow fire before collapsing dead to the ground. Heliod dusted the ash from his cloak and looked to the horizon.

“If one terror came from the mountain, others might follow,” Heliod boomed, “I’ll go take care of the nest-- you stay back and guard the city in case one gets past me.”

Stone-Eyed Ephara nodded once. She stared a long while at the dragon, not sure if her eyes had played tricks on her. There seemed to have been a flicker of strange, black energy around its eyes… Something about it was familiar, though she couldn’t pin why. For their part, Ashiok’s mouth formed a thin line. 

_ This will be a problem.  _

Ashiok wandered along towards the outer wilds, hoping to find a greater slew of monsters. Wild beasts were easy enough to manipulate-- they ran on instinct and fear overrode all. It would be necessary for Ashiok to find a whole host of such animals, guide them slowly together, and then launch them upon a different polis. If the gods were truly striking out against the wilds in such a way, it would take an army to overwhelm them-- if only for a moment. That moment would surely fuel nightmares enough to last. It wasn’t an elegant solution, but Ashiok didn’t always need elegance. They needed  _ fear _ .

Within three days of their time out by Setessa, Ashiok saw something strange. There were holes in the ground. Not just any sort of dug-up dirt-- these holes seemed almost like those portals Ashiok had witnessed in the curious war on Ravnica. Yet these did not truly lead to another plane but to a nightmarish scape of  _ some _ sort. Ashiok looked down only to pull back immediately. From the hole burst a great dragon in terrible flight. Ashiok watched it go with careful analysis. It was familiar. The scars on its neck and the strange partially-closed wound in its chest confirmed that it was certainly the dragon which Ashiok had loosed upon Meletis just days prior.

_ Now that’s interesting _ .

Ashiok jumped down into the Underworld, blinded to the vision of all the monsters and gods who lurked. They wandered at first with only some purpose. Ashiok would occasionally strike up fears in the creatures who lived, causing them to hallucinate things which would chase them to the breach. 

So the gods had sought to protect the poleis and kill all the monsters. All they had managed to accomplish was herd them into one focused location. And from what Ashiok could tell, the Underworld was overflowing and ready to burst. This was  _ delicious _ .

Ashiok’s greed for greater nightmares propelled them further and further down, unhampered by the various hellscapes within the Underworld. Phylias’ grating insanity, Nerono’s rivers of forgetfulness, Tizerus’s harsh auras of terror, and Agonas’s legions of hate monsters could not ply Ashiok away from their quest. Ashiok’s mind was a steel trap, locked far from Theros’ reach, and all the Underworld could truly damage was the mind.

The Nightmare Muse turned aside from the horror shows of the Underworld and, inevitably, from the golden gardens of Ilysia. The dryads eyed the shadows where Ashiok lurked with deep suspicion and unease but none could detect them properly. A familiar thoughtstream radiated from within its depths, but Ashiok was curious about what lay even deeper. 

So they went, witnessing more and more cracks in the fibers of the Underworld. More and more monsters lurked, and Ashiok set them free with wisps of nightmare magic. They delighted in the chaos which surged up through the mystical, mythical depths of the Underworld and broke loose in wretching, thrashing explosions of energy. The havoc could be felt even down as far as Ashiok had gone. 

The ruins no longer resembled even remotely what Ashiok had observed on Theros’ surface. Much of the Underworld was littered with decayed temples to various gods. Erebos’ survived best and brightest, especially within Tizerus. But here there was little which indicated the beings here had ever heard of Heliod or the rest of his piddling colleagues. The entities depicted were much larger than anything Ashiok had seen on Theros. Some had too many mouths, too many teeth. Others were wreathed in flames and flora in equal measure. Vast. Incomprehensible.

_ Titans _ , read the inscription above one. Ashiok grinned. 

They found, amidst the ruins, a great golden doorway. Beside it stood, to Ashioks’ surprise, a god. Unmistakable in its aura and appearance. Four arms. A braid across her face, made of the same thread which wove around her in vast quantities. A presence which demanded attention, devotion, and worship. Even Ashiok had to struggle for a moment against the warping sense of self which this great being naturally oozed. 

The god, of what Ashiok could not understand, stood guard with a great needle over a massive golden door. It dwarfed even her. Malice dribbled from whatever lurked behind it, roaring and snarling and heaving great force against it. The ground shook as a terrifying lowing came from within. Ashiok placed their hands on the ground.

Whatever was behind that door was  _ sure _ to cause such nightmares that Ashiok would never go hungry again. Nightmare magic wove across the ground in sharp, shredding spurts, working their way up the door and wrenching the seal. The god glanced at the seal, then… strangely, she looked directly at Ashiok. The Nightmare Muse felt a flicker of (not fear, never fear)  _ concern _ for their own safety for but a moment. 

“Very well, then,” rumbled the god, in a voice both soothing and caustic, “It is time.”

She disappeared in a golden light. Ashiok was left with questions as the door began to crack. Whatever was behind it would begin to emerge but Ashiok didn’t want to be there when it happened. They turned their face towards the isle of Ilysia and a wicked grin appeared beneath horns and smoke. The madness above would take time to take hold, but there would surely be a hero or two with trauma to snack on in the meantime.

Elspeth’s pleasant dreams would soon be over...


	4. Rise to Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daxos is brought to life, though he does not thrive in his new role. A quick look into Elspeth's well-being reveals something strange going on: nightmares in Paradise?

Athreos looked up in surprise at the rising dawn. Not at the sun, but at the herald. Sun-Crowned Heliod crested over the horizon and seemed to be fast approaching the Underworld. Surely not. That was insanity. But the god stayed his course… Athreos sent out a silent call.

Heliod knelt a scant mile from the entrance and looked around. Khrusor shone bright in his hand. A cold aura washed out suddenly, and the God of the Sun aimed his gaze towards the Underworld.

“What business do you have with my domain, Heliod?” Erebos asked quietly.

His voice was cold and bleak, a harsh whisper which resounded nonetheless across the land. Animals grew fearful and fled on its sound. 

“I only came here for one thing,” Heliod said, “Though have you here to watch is… a welcome treat.”

Erebos scowled. Heliod reached down with his free hand and came up with a single mortal. Erebos’s eyes focused and he bared his teeth in hideous rage.

“Leave my creation alone,” Erebos said.

“He was my creation first, my destined prophet,” Heliod said with a sneer, “You merely twisted him. He was freed to me on a vow, was he not?”

The Bleak-Hearted God hissed and cracked his whip uselessly. Heliod looked down on the meek Returned in his palm. He placed Khrusor on his back, securing it there on a belt, and snapped his fingers on his other hand. Essence wove itself into place, with it an eidolon. That was too far. Erebos struck out at Heliod with his whip, but the Sun-Crowned was faster. He slammed the eidolon and essence into the Returned and then used his hand to seize the end of Erebos’s foul whip. Sunlight scorched the Underworld’s Lord and Erebos pulled back with a howl.

Heliod turned his attention back to the Returned in his hand, no longer a wretched zombie. Its eidolon struggled to regain control, but Heliod’s essence eased the process. Starry patterns formed on the creature as its flesh became vital again. The mask fell away to reveal the face of Daxos of Meletis, his face contorted in confusion and pain. 

“You are taking risks, foolish even for you,” Erebos snarled, “Such a powerful blade is invariably… double-sided.”

Heliod narrowed his eyes.

“You speak from experience, Foul-Faced Erebos. The Two-Tongued got the better of you as your Demigod, but I’m not so foolish as you.”

Daxos sputtered in the hands of a pleasant god. 

“What has happened?” he asked, “Where is… where is Elspeth?”

Heliod winced. He glanced out at Erebos, who smirked.

“Yes, Heliod… Where is Elspeth?” he asked smugly.

“Let us leave this dreary place, my newest Champion… And I shall explain her misfortune…”

***

Daxos was always aware of a pressure at the back of his mind. It was not like what he experienced when he’d been alive. Seeing Nyx during the day was daunting, but after his whole life of it, he adjusted. Now a Demigod, he had even greater sight and clarity.

It was funny, he didn’t really remember the moment Heliod woke him in full glory. When he thought about it, or the conversation about… someone… All he could remember was pure white light. Thinking on it increased the pressure in his mind, and he would relent in mild frustration before setting back to his task.

For the moment, that involved walking down to a small temple to Pharika. It was in one of the more rundown areas of Meletis, where the sick were more apt to catch diseases and frequently prayed for her respite. 

“Good evening,” Daxos said quietly as he stepped into the door.

One of the priestesses looked to Daxos and set down the vase she was inscribing histories upon. A priest working on ingredients beside her continued grinding, though his eyes flicked towards the guest.

“You look fit in health,” said the priestess, “Do you need a cure for someone else? Or perhaps… a poison?”

Daxos sighed. He hadn’t wanted it to be true, but it seemed Heliod had been right.

_ Pharika has turned against Theros. She no longer wishes to cure its ills, only to poison my beautiful world. Wipe her from Meletis, so that she will weaken and the city shall strengthen. _

It did not settle completely, but he felt that pressure crushing the little voice who spoke out against Heliod.

“I have already found the poison,” Daxos said.

The priest did not catch the threat in his voice, but the priestess caught the faintest hint of it. She set the vase down and looked at Daxos in wary uncertainty.

“And I am the cure,” Daxos finished, “Under orders of Great Heliod, Bringer of the Dawn and Bearer of Peace.”

He drew his short sword and leaped forward. The priest yelped and threw the half-made concoction at the demigod-- raw Nyx magic flared across Daxos’s skin and the poison burned away in bright light. Heliod’s Champion laid low the entirety of the temple. With the blaring light of his god, he scoured away the bodies and all the rest of the filth in the temple. It was wiped clean by morning. Daxos emerged to find four bleary priests of Heliod waiting.

“We were sent a vision at dawn’s light,” said one, “That a new house of Heliod’s was to open here in Meletis. We were to go there and serve the people who needed us.”

Daxos nodded.

“It has been scoured free of a foul god’s influence. You will be safe to establish your work here.”

“You’re not staying?” asked a priestess.

Heliod’s voice rumbled through Daxos’s mind.

_ There is a temple to Mogis just east of here… They will surely begin a slaughter tonight. _

Daxos shook his head.

“My work is elsewhere…”

And so it went. Temples of Mogis, Pharika, and Phenax were wiped clean. Daxos thought his work would be finished, and Heliod would be satisfied. It did not stop there. 

_ Athreos and Erebos wish for the death of our precious humans so they would worship only them forever. Let us weaken their hold. _

And so more temples were washed clean and remade in Heliod’s image. Daxos spread the word of Heliod in the towns, insisting that the Sun-Crowned’s glory would shine through all of Theros and they would rejoice. Why worship such dreary gods who preferred their end?

Athreos had scholars, and Erebos had doctors. Those who tried to fight died quickly, but most scattered the moment Daxos showed his blade and ill-intent.

_ Purphoros and Keranos bring havoc to Theros with fire and lightning. Their creativity is loved but dangerous. If they increase their power, Theros will never know peace. _

Daxos found little love in Meletis for either god, but there was still resistance. Backtalk. He showed himself as proof of Heliod’s ultimate benevolence. Brought back after dying to slay Xenagos, he was proof that Heliod was surely the greatest of these. 

Their priests were difficult to subdue and scatter, for they bore destructive magic, but Daxos’s light burned brighter than anything in their arsenal.

_ Kruphix bears secrets which would be better shared to all. He keeps them to himself like Phenax, so that he might upturn the order of the world. _

Kruphix had one temple and a few shrines. Few in Meletis knew the god, but Daxos was eyed suspiciously as he entered and when he left. They did not seem to accept his insistence that Heliod would bring to light all which needed to be known, but they did not fight.

The lone priestess took one look at Daxos and nodded solemnly. She picked up her bag, which Daxos noticed had been fully packed with a small layer of dust on it. The priestess slung it over her shoulder and walked out of the door. It was the only time Daxos did not even have to unsheathe his sword to scour a temple, and it left him shaken.

_ Nylea is the true source of the wild animals which plague Meletis’ gates, and she will not relent until all the poleis have been ground back into nature. _

All of Meletis knew Nylea and although they rebuked her, they screamed at Daxos as he scoured her temples. They hounded him as a herald of imminent disaster. But no disaster came. The beasts were still held at bay by Heliod and Ephara. Daxos insisted they had even been driven  _ further _ away, and Meletis began to forget the Keen-Eyed.

_ Thassa wishes to plunge the land beneath the sea. We cannot permit this. _

Daxos had to be careful. For weeks prior to his attempts on the first temple, he preached the words of Heliod, slowly upping the ante on the words against Thassa. It started as idle speculation that the Sea God was not as pleasant as many had said. He spoke of the False Callaphe and what she had accomplished. By the time he descended upon the temple, it had been largely abandoned in favor of the nearby temples to Heliod and Ephara.

_ Iroas has begun inciting Akros to batter down Meletis. We must weaken his hold on the world so that he might not plunge it into war. _

Iroas was the god of a different polis. He had thoroughly established himself there, and Meletis largely did away with him, but it felt wrong. When Daxos entered the first temple of Iroas, the priests were shocked and caught offguard.

“Surely Iroas is pleasing to the Great God?” 

“He is a warmonger,” Daxos said harshly, his voice ringing with Heliod’s splendor, “And Heliod desires peace.”

“No!”

Daxos’s sword ended the argument shortly. Victory was not with Iroas’s devoted, much as they had prayed it to be. When the last of Iroas’s temples were scoured clean and remade in Heliod’s image, Daxos wondered if it was at last over. Surely no other temples could be undone. But Heliod’s voice returned. Daxos gasped with the suddenness of the pressure and doubled over as the voice rang through his mind.

_ Karametra has fallen in with her wild sister, Nylea. She keeps Setessa safe and guarded, but she encourages the wild beasts to charge Meletis. They all oppose us. None can remain but Meletis.  _

Daxos gnashed his teeth against this order. It could not be true, but the pressure rose in the back of his mind until it felt that the bright splendor of Heliod would fill him until there was nothing save Heliod. His body would burn away in screaming brightness. And then it stopped. Daxos lifted his gaze skyward and nodded.

“None can remain but Meletis.”

Karametra was not a naturally evangelical god, and her followers were only willing to maintain the one temple. When Daxos arrived, the lone priestess sat in silence. She stared at Daxos with tear-strewn eyes.

“Why?” she asked.

“Only Heliod can keep Theros safe,” Daxos said quietly but sternly.

“How? When he drives away all the gods of Theros?” she asked.

“They work against the world. They poison it with their arguments. They bleed it dry with their petty squabbles. Only Heliod and Ephara are resolved to keep Theros in balance.”

The priestess levelled a pitiful gaze at Daxos and raised her staff.

“What happens when Ephara disagrees with Heliod? Will you be sent against  _ her _ temples, Daxos? Will you have the will to burn away half of Meletis for his ego?”

Daxos’s eyes blazed with white light.

“Only the Great God can remain,” he intoned.

She screamed as she fought, but she was silent in death. Daxos robotically scoured the temple and emerged to find one pilgrim of Heliod outside the temple.

“The Peace-Bearer entreated me to wander this way. Is this the end of my journey?” she asked.

Daxos wanted to scream, but Heliod’s voice rose up from within him instead.

“Nay, child,” said the god through his prophet, “This is but the beginning.”

Daxos felt himself slipping further and further away, wondering idly if this is what it meant to become a demigod. Wondering if, instead, he was still dead. Perhaps he had never escaped the Underworld, and this was just another in a long line of punishments.

***

Heliod wandered across Theros in a manner like his pilgrims. He wore a cloak with the hood over his face. He hummed a tune as he walked, his awareness extended in the poleis. Wherever a temple of a god exists, so too exists the god. From Nyx, Meletis was a beacon of Heliod’s consciousness, and he could observe the entire city with ease. Iroas and Setessa had propped up plenty of shrines, but he knew he could not overtake them like he had done with Meletis.

Not yet.

Ephara manifested beside him in a similarly human guise. She was not naturally good at deception and rarely changed shape-- she was stuck in her ways. A perfect reflection of Meletis, really. 

“Your Demigod has been working through my polis at night,” Ephara said tersely, “Why?”

“There has been some needed cleaning,” Heliod said firmly. 

“You go too far,” Ephara said, “No temple should be desecrated. The other gods will revenge themselves upon us.”

“Meletis is safe,” Heliod said, “My greatness has been magnified in the eyes of Meletis, in the absence of those other, meddlesome gods. Would you have Mogis’s red eye still burning in our polis?”

_ Our polis. _

Ephara slowed for a moment.

“What is your goal, Heliod?” she asked.

“To keep Theros safe, of course. It can be no safer than with me in command. The other gods have become petty and quarrelsome. We cannot trust them. Leave Thassa to her seas, Purphoros to his forge, and Nylea to her trees. Theros is here, in the poleis.”

Ephara eyed him coldly.

“So why have Karametra and Iroas been excised from Meletis?” 

“We must consolidate power and focus it. You younger gods cannot risk stretching yourselves too thin.”

_ Younger gods. _

“I don’t like this, Heliod,” Ephara said.

“You do not have to,” Heliod replied, “You must simply go along with it. I am the greatest of these. You know this. Do not dare to go against me.”

“I chose to ally myself with you, Heliod, but it is still  _ my polis _ , and I will not bow to you.”

Heliod’s eyes sparkled with golden light, and Ephara felt a chill roll through her starry constellations even high in Nyx.

“My temples outnumber yours. The people sing my ballads and my glory. You are the useful core of Meletis, but  _ I am Theros _ .”

Ephara clenched her hands into fists, but she could see through his guise. She saw the immensity of his essence, which had been growing in the past months. When he had been on her side or out fighting monsters, it had been welcome. But in so accepting his help, she had helped him outmuscle her. Ephara cursed her short-sightedness. The vanity in accepting his compliments and assurances that this was for the betterment of Theros. 

She knew whose betterment it had always been for.

Ephara slipped away into Nyx, and Heliod chuckled darkly. He continued his simple pilgrimage, eyes watching contentedly from all his temples. The chains felt lighter still. It would be a matter of weeks before he could snap them and go free. Heliod couldn’t wait.

***

_ ‘You are no hero, Elspeth. You are a monster, and you’ve murdered me.’ _

Elspeth woke up screaming. She held a hand against her heaving chest, trying to scrub free the memories of her nightmare. She looked around in the darkness, her breaths short and erratic. The knight wiped at her tear-stained face and huddled tight.

“Daxos…,” she whispered in a hiccup.

It had been the fourth night this week that she had been plagued with visions of Daxos, and no one had an answer for her. Kynaios and Tiro were shocked to hear it, insisting they hadn’t had so much as a mildly uncomfortable dream in all their centuries in Ilysia. During the day, she could be fine-- the pleasant aura, the lovely company, and the fruits of the island soothed her aches and fears. Night had become a different story altogether.

Elspeth rolled over and tried to sleep-- the island helped her in the matter. In the corner of the room sat a figure she never saw, never even noticed. They sat there with one leg draped over the other. Their clawed hand oozed smoke from the fingertips, gently tapping them against their face. 

“Enough of your dead lover, little one,” Ashiok murmured, their voice washing over Elspeth’s unconscious form, “Let’s go…  _ deeper _ .”

In Elspeth’s mind, a darkened silhouette of Heliod took up arms against her, and she screamed as he plunged Khrusor into her chest. 

Over.

And over.

And over again…

In her sleep, Elspeth Tirel howled.

And Ashiok grinned.


	5. Nyxborn Descending, Demigods Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calix journeys to find Elspeth and checks on the Demigods in the above world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally just about the Demigods, but I think they're more interesting as chiefly background characters (except in a story just about them... *wink*) and let's face it-- Calix needs love! Since we have zero characterization for Calix on hand, I was faced with a tough choice there. Newborn robot trying to figure things out with loose programming? Or semi-petulant teenager? I decided to go with the latter, as most people on Theros are sanctimonious and petty teen would provide more dynamic character interactions and kind of fit better with the scenes I'd already had for him.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

As Calix stepped into the Underworld, the atmosphere notably shifted from what it was aboveground. Moldy, desolate, devoid of hope or sense of self. He watched eidolons weeping in front of the river where Athreos’ oar rested. The god itself was carefully watching several Returned as they struck out towards the border, preparing to end their meager escape attempt.

An eidolon of stern demeanor approached Calix carefully and looked to him. Calix’s needles hovered behind his back, and his arm reached out. He stayed still, looking for the eidolon to make the first move.

“You are not of us,” said the eidolon quietly.

“I’m alive and kicking,” said Calix.

“Why are you here?” asked the eidolon.

“Gotta find a friend, I guess.”

“Funny,” said the eidolon, “I’m looking for someone, too. Mind lending me a hand?”

Calix took a moment and breathed deep. He stared into the eidolon’s eyes and deeper still, until he saw the very weavings in its core. Calix’s vision was unlike any mortal’s on Theros. Even Daxos would have been dizzied had they swapped senses for a moment. Threads extended from every living creature, weaving destinies and showing connections. All beings were connected and within these connecting threads Klothys wove her great works. Destinies small and large were written in these threads, and Calix could see them all.

In this eidolon he saw a prison warden intended to be a steadfast mentor. One of the greatest humans of his time, he would raise dozens of great heroes from themselves and pull them from the mires of their fallen morals. He was to have cared for far more after Kythen Iora, bolstered by the man’s ascent to greatness. 

But Kytheon had disappeared. Calix could dig into the eidolon’s past and saw visions of the boy, but he could not see what came of him. Something had gone astray in the dead man’s fate as a result. 

It would be useful to have a companion. The strings of Calix’s needles dropped and resumed harmlessly dangling on his back. 

“Alright, Hixus,” Calix said, “Let us see if we can dig up this Kytheon.”

The eidolon’s broad shoulders stiffened, and his misty form coalesced briefly into the form of a great, bearded man in traditional Akroan attire. The focus dissipated and he returned to the coalescence of light and stars.

“What are you?” asked the man.

Calix kept his hand extended. The eidolon took it firmly.

“I’m Calix, and I am an agent of fate. I have been sent to set right the wrongs on Theros, and it is clear to me now that  _ much _ has gone wrong.”

Hixus watched Calix confidently pull away and begin his trek towards the far end of the river. Clenching his hands into fists, he too followed after.

The Nyxborn and the eidolon wandered down the banks of Athreos’s precious river. The river itself as well as strange crystals provided low sources of light. They wandered a broken path, the cold ground shattered and full of unlevel places. Calix managed to avoid tripping, though Hixus couldn’t see how.

It had been some time since their initial introduction. Hixus kept his form ready, looking all around for signs of imminent danger. Calix continued reading the long weavings of fate all around him.

Klothys had planned a great destiny for Kytheon Iora. He was to topple the most vicious tyrant in all of Theros, destroy threats to the entire world, and be lauded as a great hero for eons. But he had vanished. He may have taken his fate with him. Calix wondered what came of that. The absent Kytheon’s destiny had been respun and placed on Elspeth, and Calix would see that this time, it was carried out in full. Destiny would not be denied. 

“Kytheon was a good lad,” Hixus said, “Impertinent to be sure. He struggled with his anger and he picked too many fights, but he had greatness in him.”

Calix nodded.

“What of you? You seem to carry that same recklessness, barging into the Underworld.”

Calix eyed the eidolon.

“I’ve only been this handsome figure for a month. I’m not sure what I am.”

“Why did Kruphix create you?” Hixus asked.

Calix stopped for a moment and laughed.

“I was not created by Kruphix,” he said, “Surely you know the god of destiny?”

Hixus could not maintain any sort of facial expression, but his odd stillness and lack of response needled Calix. The Nyxborn’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Klothys, Quick-Weaving, All-Seeing. The great god who had so much work to do she was born Four-Armed, who blinded herself to the physical world so she might focus entirely on Theros’s soul.”

“I’ve never… heard of her,” Hixus said.

Calix snarled. He continued walking, but Hixus noticed how the Nyxborn had begun stomping. Something stirred in the corner of his vision.

“You know I didn’t think mom had it so right, but that shining jackass really did make everyone forget her. And the other jerks in this jerk pantheon let it happen!”

A growling rumbled from somewhere, but Hixus couldn’t see where. He gathered himself to ask a question, but his hands were up and ready all the same. 

“Where has she been all this time? All the gods of Theros were seen when the usurper brought chaos to our world.” 

A beast launched from the shadows, a horrifying chimera whose skin had long decayed. It charged straight for Calix. Hixus intercepted it with a tackle, diverting the horrible thing for but a moment. Calix’s threads lashed out, the needles striking the chimera and digging in. Golden light flashed from Hixus, and suddenly chimera was gone. Hixus felt a surge of power though his form, and he looked to the Nyxborn.

“Look, it’s really complicated to explain but basically I borrowed some of you to lock that toothsome terror away. Cool?”

Hixus patted at the part of his not-a-body that used to exist as his torso. He glanced up at Calix and shrugged.

“I’m fine. Wait, away? Where does it go?” Hixus asked.

Calix shrugged.

“I’m only a month old. Don’t ask me.”

With that, he turned about and started back down the path. Hixus glanced at the area where the chimera had been, a little uneasy about how entirely absent it was. He glanced at the ground and felt the ghost of a shiver pass through him-- not even its tracks remained.

What had he  _ done _ to it? Hixus felt sure the Nyxborn wouldn’t elaborate, so he returned to a different topic.

“Well,” Hixus said, “What about Klothys? Where did she go?”

“She is down in the deepest part of the Underworld, keeping a grip on the greatest threat to Theros. Or at least… she was.”

Hixus looked ahead, seeing the gates to Phylias. He placed a hand on Calix’s back.

“If that’s the case, we’ll need to move quickly. Stay by me through this place… it erodes the soul. I’ll provide some insulation against the effect.”

“How do you know you’ll be alright?” Calix asked.

“I don’t,” Hixus said.

“...Bro.”

Calix stared for a moment at the imperious man as he floated alongside him into the strange, barren land. Immediately, Calix felt the strange sensation of his consciousness being peeled back. The air sucked out all the moisture and left him feeling like he would be little but a husk soon. Dozens of humans, satyrs, minotaurs, centaurs, harpies, merfolk, and leonin littered the ground around the harsh, stone marble realm. They laid in place, unmoving.

Not dead, Calix realized.

Defeated.

Devoid of purpose.

Hixus groaned under the weight of the aura, and Calix could sense how much stronger it was on him. Hixus’s essence kept him from feeling the full force, but even that was so much. Calix struggled to keep his feet moving. He clutched his threads and focused.

Blazing eyes filled his mind. Visions of a gorgeous tapestry swirled until he could no longer stand it.

_ Keep moving, my child. _

Calix nodded. He has purpose too great to be eroded by this wretched place. His magic swirled around him, and Hixus relaxed but held tight to his charge.

“Gotta hurry. My mother’s blessing won’t last forever.”

Hixus couldn’t focus enough to respond meaningfully, so he just grunted an affirmative. And so the eidolon-bestowed Nyxborn ran across the marble floors, their loud footsteps echoing through the empty landscape.

Calix struggled to stay focused and ignore the effects of Phylias. He took a strand and tugged, granting him a vision of what was happening on the surface… 

***

For decades, Callaphe had known something like peace. She’d spent all her life on the seas, speaking well of glorious Thassa and attributing all her greatness and fortune on adventure to the Sea God. She’d faced monsters both on land and sea, and only her wit had kept her safe. She had been one of the only heroes who died peacefully of old age, and a rarer sort whose soul was not taken by Athreos or clutched tight by Erebos. Thassa had pulled her into Nyx and kept there as a cherished companion and occasional advisor. It had been a peaceful existence, though not without concerns. That pretender had caused Callaphe no small amount of frustration, but that had passed. This new threat to Thassa’s authority had emerged from a higher level.

** _HELIOD HAS GONE TOO FAR_ **

Thassa’s rage vibrated through Callaphe’s constellation, and she felt the curious sensation of her starry essence being knitted back into physical flesh.

** _HE HAS UNDONE MY TEMPLES IN MELETIS._ **

Callaphe saw visions of temples burned and remade. Of a single stranger in orange and white garb, with glowing golden stars woven into his flesh. His eyes shone bright.

** _IF HELIOD WANTS A FIGHT, HE HAS ONE._ **

Visions of all of Theros submerged beneath the sea and subjugated thoroughly to Thassa’s law filled Callaphe’s mind. Her flesh was finally knitted together in full, and she was falling. Callaphe felt the wind all about her, but a smile plastered her face. With a wave of her hand, the winds rose up to catch her and slowly dropped her down onto the face of the sea. 

** _MARSHAL MY FORCES. _ **

With that, Thassa’s voice at last fell silent. Without crashing waves and distant thunder rumbling in her mind, Callaphe was at last able to fully focus. Driftwood pulled together under her direction into a fine ship in a matter of seconds. Callaphe climbed up from the waves and onto her vessel. She was an older woman, and death had not changed that. She kept her slighter, more frail body even when she had descended in Thassa-blessed light to the oceans she had loved in life. Callaphe knew better than anyone that a strong body was nothing compared to a strong mind. 

“Violent waves bring violent news,” Callaphe murmured.

Her words washed out into the ocean around her, and the stormy sea slowed its roiling to provide her a calm voyage. She meditated as she steered her vessel, pondering her role in the events to come. 

If Thassa needed to go up against Heliod in combat, it was necessary that Callaphe fix what the pretender had accomplished. Towards Purphoros, then… Callaphe smirked. There would always be another adventure.

***

So Thassa had chosen her demigod. Calix grimaced. This would surely cause more chaos through Theros, but it would be necessary in the days ahead. Phylias wore away at him, pleading that his purpose was too great for one to bear. Calix snarled and pulled another thread.

***

A man in golden armor charged the landscape. Monsters occasionally rose up from their dens to intercept this strange, tasty looking meal. They were sorely disappointed.

“Cymede…”

His axe bit through bone and sinew, scattering minotaurs and slicing through chimeras. It burned like the inside of a volcano, immolating harpies and cauterizing hydras as he beheaded them. He carved a swath of destruction through the Setessan wilds on his way to a distant mountain on Thassa’s shores.

“Cymede…”

Anax could only say one name, but the red flaring stars in his side and the make of his axe attributed all of his great deeds to one: Purphoros.

***

Another thread, another vision. Calix saw the necropolis, Odunos, under siege. Hundreds of monsters roamed the outside, tearing through Returned and smashing against its walls. Hateful catoblepases, snarling typhons, monsters of a dozen other shapes and sizes, with even a couple of dragons all tore at the city’s walls. Calix could spot the curious hole from the Underworld from which they all poured. Starving and tormented, they lashed out wildly. 

A strange being stood on the city’s parapets, firing dozens of arrows into the crowd of horrid monsters. Her aura flooded the wall and the Returned grew stronger in her presence. Renata, cloaked in green stars, leaped from the wall and drove twin daggers into the throat of a dragon. It howled and spun, but she stuck tight. Dragging her daggers, she broke off dozens of scales and let dragonblood rain from the sky. Renata punched through the hole she’d made in its throat. The dragon moaned as the dagger severed vein after vein, its piteous cry turning into a gurgle. Renata leapt from the dragon as it crashed into the horde of monsters, flattening a couple.

She landed a bloody mess, but her bow was drawn up in an instant. Starlight formed in the bow and Nyxforged arrows flew through beast after beast. They started to bore in on her, but something else leaped from the hole. 

A man-- no, a Returned. His mask did not shine with the normal Returned magic, though. Calix felt the thread of destiny around the man, and gasped.  _ Tymaret _ . Black stars shone through his mask. He swung his swords through monster after monster, and something curious happened. They did not simply die, their corpses dispersed into smoke that seemed to be  _ pulled _ irrevocably down into the Underworld.

Renata and Tymaret cut through the monsters until they were back to back, weapons up. Renata glanced towards him out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m Renata, chosen of Nylea. Who are you?”

“Tymaret, King of Odunos. My city will not fall.”

“Aye.”

Calix felt himself pulled back into Phylias and away from the Demigods…

***

At last, the gates of Phylias appeared before the two. Calix stepped through it and collapsed in a heap. Hixus heaved and groaned. 

“Maybe… it was a mistake… I failed my charges,” Hixus sobbed, “I got him killed. It was me, Calix… I set Kytheon free the day he died. If I had just kept him, he’d still be here.”

Calix pushed to stand up, and it felt as though he were pushing the earth itself. All his body told him to lay down and rest, his mind screamed at him that he needed water. 

“All we can take responsibility for is our self, old man,” Calix snapped, “Sure, other people are great and we should never just leave them, but the past is done. So learn from it and make a better future, or there’ll just be another Kytheon out there waiting to die.”

His magic flared, and Hixus was bound tighter to him. The eidolon snapped to attention.

“Yes… No more tragedies. No more Kytheons.”

Calix struggled to walk, but then he saw the river before him. An erratic maze of water ran across the blue-lit realm they now stood in. He almost ran to gulp down the water he so desperately needed when Hixus stopped him.

“Not here! These are the waters of Nerono… and you will surely forget.”

Calix wanted to pull his tongue out of his mouth, so thirsty he felt. Walking through Phylias had felt like it had taken days. He held tight and wandered… 

“This  _ sucks _ .”

***

The journey took days, but Calix made sure it was not time wasted. In the grueling haze of the Nerono maze, he plucked at threads of Renata and Tymaret. They worked together well, and their strange partnership kept him focused. His memory did not dampen during that time, though Hixus would occasionally be moved to tears as he was forced to forget and remember the tragedy of Kytheon.

Calix leaped from crumbling edges of Tizerus while Hixus effortlessly floated through. They stuck to simple routes but had dozens of horrifying beasts to fight. Hixus had trouble mustering the will against them from time to time-- something about the place seemed to drain his courageous essence. Calix took up the slack in those times, binding the horrors away. He has to pause on one of the cliffsides and take deep breaths. Hixus glanced at him wearily, ready to leave the place.

“Sorry old man,” Calix grunted, “Not used to having a body.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve only been alive for a month.”

Calix shook his head.

“No… You know, I don’t think that’s entirely true. Something in Nerono jostled something through me. I feel like I’ve been… alive before. But not like this. You know?”

Hixus stared at him.

“I guess I might understand if I ever got a body again. Adjusting to physicality after being this would take some doing. What could you have been before?”

“Gods above, you think I’d be wildly speculating like some annoying wind bag if I knew? Come on, I think I’m ready to get moving again.”

After Tizerus, Agonas proved challenging in a different manner entirely. It was fast-paced and reckless. Calix and Hixus fought not just for their lives but for their very existence. Wounds scored their flesh and essence as they fought and fled dozens of horrible monsters. 

“Could Kytheon be here, somewhere?” Hixus asked once, his voice full of fear.

“No way,” Calix said, “This place is the destination of dishonorable fighters.”

Hixus’s whole body trembled but he nodded and they kept moving. Calix pulled on visions of Callaphe and Anax-- unlike Renata and Tymaret, they had not interest in a partnership. For days, the Demigods battled outside of a village dedicated to Keranos. Their prowess and expertise stunned Calix and bolstered his efforts. Anax’s relentless efforts against Callaphe’s brilliant intellect and trapwork. The battle razed the village-- Callaphe was forced to abandon the fight so that she might return to her primary mission.

Calix felt his heart clench as he recognized the passing of time in the aboveworld. He was running out of time, and there was still so much to do… Seeing the garden gates of Ilysia was a relief in some ways, but those burning eyes urged him forward too quickly for him to enjoy even this great achievement… 

“Surely my Kytheon will be here,” Hixus said, “He has to be. Only this place would be worthy of him…”

Calix twitched. This was about to be awkward… 

***

“I’m sorry, Elspeth,” said the dryad, “Word had finally come down. Daxos is… a Returned.”

She had asked him a week prior. Little news came into Ilysia-- what was the use of paradise if you were still bogged down by the terrible news of the outer world? Worrying for the living was no longer your duty, surely! Still, Elspeth pleaded to know, and the answer made her want to curl up in a ball.

Elspeth fell deeper into the nightmare. Heliod bore down on her. She was exhausted and tired of it. She had failed so many people and places, from her family and homeworld to the royal houses and Bant to even Daxos.

But she had not failed Theros, and she had not failed Heliod. He did not  _ deserve  _ to strike against her. She had overcome so much, and she had sworn to give her life for Daxos.  _ But not for that _ .

“You lied,” Elspeth shouted.

She wanted to fight, but she was drained. On some level, she suspected she deserved it. It took grappling to fight against that nagging notion, but she was too slow. Godsend was buried in her chest. Elspeth howled and awoke in a cold sweat. Ashiok watched her steady her breathing before climbing out of bed. 

The champion walked outside to drink in the cool night air. She stared out towards Ilysia’s entrance to see something which took her by surprise. There was an eidolon, something she hadn’t seen in all her time here in Ilysia. All the dead had been entirely corporeal. 

But then she noticed the person, and with a start, she recognized the slight thrum of life inside him. The strange, olive-skinned man looked through the entrance and straight at her. She felt something stir inside her, a familiarity. His eyes had a passion to them… 

Then he looked away and wandered from the entrance. The eidolon wavered for a few moments, before following in kind.

Elspeth stayed there for a little while before returning to her sleep. Ashiok considered her prone form for a moment before stalking away into other parts of the Underworld. Other heroes had nightmares after all, but Elspeth was a golden goose. 

Mustn't kill the golden goose. 

They’d return in a night or so. Peace would make the returning nightmares sweeter. Perhaps, if Elspeth’s guard was down, Ashiok might see more of those creatures. What did she call them?

Phyrexians?


	6. The Gods Confer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kruphix has concerns, and Klothys has a warning.

Three dragons flew as one group, far from the sun-blasted lands of Meletis. They landed upon the largest volcano in the area and blew their rage against the mountain’s sides. A strange thrummed rumbled beneath their feet, a primal call from their ancient ancestor-- Thraxes. They crooned and snarled, scraping against the rock and blasting its sides.

Their landing had made hardly an impact, and the great entity residing within the volcano had hardly noticed. But as the dragons scratched and blasted the outer walls of his home, he grew annoyed. When it did not cease, Bronze-Blooded Purphoros emerged with an enormous spear in one hand and a hammer in the other. 

The hammer crushed one. The spear bisected another. And the volcanic eruption of Purphoros’ emergence became a writhing elemental under the Forge God’s command. It grappled with the dragon and they crashed down the side of the mountain, blasting and screaming as they went. Purphoros turned around and looked down the mountain’s side. There stood Callaphe, beloved of Thassa. 

“Let Thassa know I have no quarrel with her, and never have. My Demigod is merely… zealous,” the god boomed. 

Callaphe bowed deeply and held her hands out in diplomatic supplication.

“Of course, Lord of the Volcano, Slayer of Thraxes. The fallen King Anax’s plight with Keranos has become understood. I will tell my patron the good news.”

Purphoros reached down into his forge and pulled up with a massive harpoon. He threw it down to Callaphe and it struck the earth. Callaphe placed a hand against it. The swirling stars of the harpoon and her own flesh grazed against one another and blended together-- the essences merged until Callaphe wrangled control of the mighty weapon. It shrunk until it could be held in her grasp easily. 

“I didn’t imagine she’d want another bident. Figure she’s done playing with her food,” Purphoros said with a low laugh creeping through his voice.

Callaphe smiled up at the god, careful not to respond to the jest as an insult.

“Surely, your wisdom is true.”

Purphoros eyed the old woman and nodded.

“Tell Thassa we need to talk. Kruphix has news.”

“It will be done.”

Callaphe turned and walked far from the mountain. In the distance, the raging volcano elemental reared up from the fallen carcass of the third dragon and bellowed a hideous sound. Purphoros glanced at it and grumbled. 

“Wonder how long before that horrid creature comes back to darken my doorstep,” Purphoros sneered, “Kruphix should have let me kill you when I had the chance, Heliod.”

***

Though immense in size, Nylea made not a sound as she stalked her landscapes. The forests were filled not with the chatter of animals, not the squeaks or lowing of prey nor the roar of its predators, but with silence. The shift had been happening for weeks, but it wasn’t until today that the absence became so stark that Nylea couldn’t help but take note. 

She surveyed the forests and cliffs and lakes of her hunting grounds and felt the pulsing of life. Nylea reached deep within herself to feel out for the great web of life she was always connected to. The power was always there, but she had purposefully stifled it. What was the point of a hunt if you could observe all the wilds with perfect clarity? But now there was something more than a simple stag to find.

Pulses of energy, her “eyes” seeking ever outward, washed over the land. Nylea looked up as she focused on her mission, and the evidence became clear. The animals of Theros had not simply vanished but fled-- herded forcefully away from the poleis. The Fleet-Footed Archer snarled at the sky. Someone had set to disrupting her natural order. 

Nylea launched across Theros at full force and arrived at the outer edges of Setessa in moments. She brought a great gust with her that bent trees and shifted the earth with her approach. Two massive silhouettes cut across the sky before her. Her estranged sister, Karametra, careful tender of nature but too set on humans for the good of Theros, stood with Heliod. Nylea’s hands itched to produce her bow against him. His hideous dawn of civilization had been an eyesore to her for too long. 

“What brings you to us, Nylea? Have you no bears to wrestle?” Heliod asked with a sneer.

“Speak kindly to my sister,” Karametra said in a hushed voice.

Nylea glared for a moment at the great garden goddess, resting high in her immense throne of flora. 

“What foolhardy works have you with this treacherous oaf?” Nylea barked at her sister.

Heliod’s eyes blazed.

“You mangy-!”

Nylea’s bow was drawn, starlit arrows nocked at the ready. Heliod produced his great spear but too slow. A single arrow bit into his shoulder and he recoiled.

“I appreciate your honest greeting, but I will not suffer your insults for long, you petty creature. Your spirit  _ reeks _ of foul miasma, and I would leave this place quickly before you taint my essence with it,  _ Oh Sun-Crowned. _ ”

She spat out the words like they were Pharika’s venom. Heliod seized the arrow in his shoulder and blasted it with light to restore his full godly glory. Nylea looked towards Karametra again.

“Leave us for a moment, Heliod,” Karametra asked. 

The Sun God cast a final scowl at Nylea before dissipating in golden light to check on his other allies.

“What have you done?” Nylea hissed.

“We are protecting our poleis,” Karametra said simply, “Theros has been in chaos, and we are here to assure them of their safety.”

Nylea scowled. 

“You sow chaos and call it peace. Do not be surprised at your garden’s growth.”

Karametra leaned forward.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Nylea sighed and holstered her bow. She turned around.

“Where have the monsters gone?” Nylea asked.

Setessa’s Caretaker raised a hand. Nylea cast a single backwards glance. One starry eye shone from under her leaf-crafted hood.

“And what will you do when they return?”

Nylea blazed across Theros once more, her essence a blur. Karametra stood in silence, her shining eyes dimmed and her shoulders slumped.

***

Days went by in uneasy events. The poleis stayed clear of monsters, but the wilds were increasingly chaotic and destructive. Battles and skirmishes took over the roads, and people stayed closer to home. 

Four gods strode from their domain across the skies of Nyx, materializing outside of the largest cavern in Theros. Starry light filled the surrounding landscape as Thassa, Purphoros, Nylea, and Kruphix materialized at the entrance to the Underworld. Athreos and Erebos manifested within the cavern, their starlight filling the cave.

Purphoros shook his great, bronze form with agitation. His hammer swung in his loose grip as he looked at the faces in front of him.

“Too much has gone wrong,” Purphoros said, “Our forgotten sister’s work… is going astray, and I do not imagine she will suffer the slights for much longer.”

The mention of Klothys made the other gods twinge in discomfort. Athreos looked across the faces-- he had not known Klothys before her role as guardian, though he had made sure to talk with her from time to time. He was busy, and it had been a little over a decade since they last spoke.

Nylea’s starry form flickered, and her hands twitched. She was not content with casual conversation, and she had all the posture of a tiger ready to bound away. 

“Heliod has reached far beyond his station,” Nylea snarled, “He seeks to corral the wild beasts of Theros.”

Athreos swayed from side to side, his starry hood rippling with each movement. He twirled one hand with a deferring flourish towards Erebos. The Bleak-Hearted clutched his whip tight in one bony hand and held the other up lazily. He looked to the other gods, a finger going up as he looked from one to the next.

“Too many monsters lurk too high in the Underworld,” Erebos said, “It is a powder keg waiting to blow. Athreos and I are working to keep them caged, but it is… much. And we are few. Where are the others? So many of our colleagues have seen fit to ignore the summons.”

Thassa looked all too out of place on the land, her great tail twitching as it sought easy purchase on the land. She shifted idly from side to side, rocking like her oceans.

“Keranos is off fighting strange elementals far above my seas,” Thassa said.

Purphoros planted his hammer in front of him, placed both hands on top of the hilt and rested his head on his hands lazily. 

“Pharika, Mogis, and Phenax are still licking their wounds in Nyx. I doubt they’ll be ready to fully manifest anytime soon,” he rumbled.

Nylea shifted her weight steadily from one side to the other. 

“Karametra, Iroas, and Ephara have decided to become Heliod’s flunkies,” Nylea snapped.

Kruphix regarded the gods as they spoke. His immaterial form never solidified, always staying a pure starry sky, but his colleagues could feel the weight of his gaze upon them. 

“Heliod has wiped the temples of Meletis clean and replanted them in his image,” Kruphix said in a wispy tone, “He eyes Akros and Setessa with the same goal, but he has stayed steady the course. He is patient, but the Sun-Crowned seeks to supplant all others.”

“Impossible,” Thassa barked.

“Possible,” Kruphix replied in his strange, even tone, “But catastrophic.”

The gods all eyed each other shiftily. The silence was broken by something few of the gods would ever believe they might see again. Golden light mixed with rushing green and red poured from the Underworld and materialized in their midst. Nylea instinctively reached for her bow. Thassa pulled back. Athreos and Erebos twitched to the side. Purphoros stood up straight, his eyes glimmering with faint tears. Only Kruphix stayed still.

An immense giantess, pink and four-armed. Her hair cascaded all around her form, twirling and swirling through the air. A cloth covered her eyes, but she could see more than any being on Theros. Her censor and spear clanged to life. Fire roared to life in spurts and bursts around her wrathful guise as she slowly swirled to look into the eyes of her siblings.

“My faithful have begun to remember my name and speak it above the darkness,” Klothys said, “I arrive with a warning: the door has been cracked irrevocably. Heliod’s squabbles and the workings of a being cloaked by Phenax have undone the seal beyond what I can repair. As I emerge, I sense that my strings of destiny have been dismantled, my role ignored.”

“We had our own domains to attend to,” Thassa said, “The sea is wide.”

Klothys spun towards the Sea God and held her censor up high. Fire swirled from her arms and Thassa clutched her harpoon but did not dare to move.

“Destiny contains  _ all _ domains!” Klothys bellowed, “You have been unfaithful to me and have broken your word.”

“I did my best,” Purphoros said, “I kept my forges lit exactly as you had wanted, and I kept the creative spirits in line with your vision.”

Klothys stepped to the Forge God and placed one hand under his chin. Purphoros’s eyes glimmered, and the God of Destiny smiled at him.

“You have always been true to me, dearest. I regret missing time with you most of all.”

She leaned forward and kissed Purphoros gently, before pulling away and turning to the others.

“The Titans are emerging, but Heliod will not hear of it. He has only one thought in his mind, that of self-preservation. He knows what their release means, but he will try to save himself far before he seeks to save Theros. I will hold them back for a while, if you wish to try and talk sense into him.”

“I’d sooner gouge out my eyes,” Purphoros rumbled.

Nylea hissed in agreement. Klothys nodded her head one way, then the other, before dissolving into golden light and swirling back down into the depths. The earth shook. Four terrible screams rose up, and the gods froze for a moment. Erebos turned to the depths and began stalking down into the Underworld.

“Are you going down to help her?” Purphoros asked.

Erebos glanced over his shoulder.

“No,” he said coldly, “I’m going to speak with a mortal. Garish, I know, but I think she’ll prove interesting.”

Kruphix cast his hands down and brought them together. 

“This meeting is at an end. We must attend to our domains and attempt to patch the frayed edges of Klothys’s where we can. She is justified in her rage, and we will need her full focus in the days ahead.”

Thassa and Purphoros immediately set out. Athreos retreated back into the depths of the Underworld-- he would carve out some time soon to find his estranged sibling and aid her in Erebos’s stead… 

Nylea lingered, watching Kruphix snap to attention. The starry god’s gaze flew up towards the horizon and they pulled their arms in close.

“You see something. I feel it. Is it Theros’s destruction?”

“Klothys’s weavings pull tight,” Kruphix whispered hoarsely, “I see a spear, shattered and forgotten.”

The last two gods looked to one another for a long moment, with a very uncertain future ahead of them. 


	7. Parting Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calix and Hixus say goodbye to each other, and Elspeth says her first goodbye to the Underworld-- and her regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elspeth section by the fantastic StubHub!

Calix and Hixus stood outside of the Ilysian realm. Hixus’s form had become increasingly solid in Ilysia’s presence, but his expression remained unreadable. 

“What do you mean?”

Calix shrugged. He glanced towards the realm of paradise, then back to Hixus. The Nyxborn took out needles and thread and began weaving as he finally glanced up at the eidolon and spoke.

“Kytheon Iora is far beyond this world entirely. I do not know how, but there are… beings who can leave. There are worlds beyond our own. I don’t know what they are like for Klothys does not, but… she knows they exist. I have read into Kytheon’s threads.”

The weavings took shape in the form of a circlet. Green and gold. Hixus glanced at them, for a second wondering if they had a glow to them. But then Calix mentioned Kytheon’s name and he snapped back up.

“He did indeed go out to fight that lesser Titan set free by Erebos. Heliod appeared and gave him a spear to slay the creature. Kytheon and his Irregulars managed the heroic deed, but poor Kytheon sought higher. Erebos appeared and he threw the spear at the god.”

Hixus clenched his hands into fists and looked away, eyes shut. He didn’t want to hear but he couldn’t pull himself away.

“Erebos diverted the attack. The godly spear fell and killed the Irregulars-- Kytheon survived with his blessed invincibility. But in the wake of such tragedy, he… left. I do not understand how. He has never returned.”

Hixus stared up at the cavern’s ceiling, high beyond reach.

“I am glad, then, to know he was okay. That he, perhaps, is still far out there somewhere. I hope… I hope he is happy. And fulfilled.”

Calix spun and spun and spun, and light trickled from his nets. Hixus looked at him curiously.

“There’s another hero you should hear about. Mom had a great plan for Kytheon’s story, but he left a vacuum. Someone else took up his mantle and defended Akros since he wasn’t there. Someone else told the stories of the Irregulars and inspired thousands. And someone else has been trapped in the Underworld for months, guiding others to a place they deserve.”

Hixus stared, shocked, as Calix spoke. The Nyxborn looked into his eyes and held up a gorgeous piece in his left hand.

“In the upper world, Taranika even now bolsters others to great heights with the tales of Kytheon. Her faith is reshaping the world, and it is all because of you. You _ found _the Irregulars. Erebos had locked them in hateful ends here in the Underworld for their insult against him, but you brought them to the hero’s reward they deserved in Ilysia. It is time to chill, man. You deserve it.”

Hixus looked down to the floor and heaved a long, heavy sigh.

“I wanted to go into it with Kytheon. Surely his soul will journey here. Perhaps after he is done on other worlds… he will return.”

Calix shook his head.

“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. No matter what, he wouldn’t want you to suffer so. Honor who he was.”

A strange shuffling sound echoed through the caverns and Hixus turned about. A Returned approached him, its golden mask glinting with strange, starry light. Shining, golden light wrapped around its arms in thread-like form, trailing off. Hixus jumped with a start upon realizing… it was his body.

“How did you…?” Hixus asked, glancing back at Calix.

The Nyxborn grinned from ear to ear.

“I’ve had your essence trail for days, and let’s face it-- I’m good,” Calix said smugly.

“You are an incredible friend,” Hixus said.

“Shut up and get your body back, man, I want a real hug.”

Hixus floated towards his corpse-- his golden-white form dissolved and wrapped around the body. Bright light flashed in spurts as his raw essence reacquainted itself with the flesh. The grayish tones brightened with life, shades of brown emerging. The golden mask fell away and shattered on the ground, and Hixus’s eyes opened. Calix grinned. The two embraced, Hixus chuckling as he patted Calix on the back.

“You still yet live,” Hixus said, “but perhaps you could come in with me?”

Calix shook his head.

“I’ve got work to do.”

Hixus frowned and tilted his head.

“Is this not where Elspeth is?” he asked, “That was surely your entire quest.”

Calix sighed.

“It’s… complicated. I have to wait here for a little while. Something’s up, but mom is being cagey. It’s giving me a headache, but listen, go in there and relax. You’ve done your part.”

Hixus nodded, smiling, with a faint glimmer in his eye.

“I won’t forget you, young friend. Take care, and may the gods keep you in their favor.”

Calix twinged but smiled. The friends clasped hands for a moment, before Hixus at last turned and walked through the gates into Ilysia. Cries from several young heroes, recently arrived, went up at the sight of him. A faintly smiling Calix shook his head and sat down on the ground. 

He pulled out bundles of thread and needles and began sewing a new pattern. The Nyxborn wove for hours, light glimmering in the needlework, forming a gloomy picture of a horned, black god with bony hands and a long, trailing whip… 

***

  
  
  


Calix lost himself in the work, but not so much that he did not feel the creeping chill or notice the darkening of the world around him. He cut the threads and tapered off the edges to reveal a complete image of the being now standing over him. 

“What are you doing here, little creature?” Erebos hissed.

“Mom said you’d be passing through soon enough. I’m here to tell you not to do it. You want to tell Elspeth that Heliod has raised up Daxos.”

Erebos quirked a brow, and his whip rattled threateningly in his hand. Calix stood defiantly against the shadow, his green starry constellations shining bright.

“Does the little hero not have a right to check in on her bargain? She purchased his half-life, after all, I’m sure she’d like to know the progress on her investment.”

Calix shook his head.

“Mom says no. Elspeth is off limits to you.”

Erebos bared his teeth.

“You dare to stand in my way?”

A great light flared around Calix, briefly the shape of a four-armed silhouette. Erebos shielded his eyes until the vision cleared. 

“Mom. Says. No.”

The Bleak-Hearted God shook his head and stared down at the Nyxborn. Realization blossomed in his mind and he snarled.

“So that’s what she did with the satyr’s remains,” Erebos said.

Calix twitched, uncertain of what Erebos was getting at. Erebos brought back his hand, and his whip sliced through the air. Calix launched his weaving at the ground and a massive golden light blasted through the cavern, a light so bright and massive any observers might have wondered if the world would soon end. A caught off guard Erebos howled as his very essence was shifted out of line by the banishing light, and the god vanished.

Calix sat back down, alone and uneasy, as he waited for Elspeth to awaken from her final slumber in Ilysia.

***

Every night, Elspeth dreamed of spears.

Godsend, in her hand - plunged into the Satyr’s chest - thrust by Heliod through her own heart.

Even amid the green hills of Illysian paradise, there was only one dream for Elspeth. The worst moment of her past, now unending present. This was Elspeth’s dream.

Heliod stood before her now, high as a mountain, his laugh rumbling and shaking the ground beneath her feet, and though she dreamed the fear was real. It seized her heart with an icy grip. When the Sun-Crowned God raised his spear, she felt lightning tear through her chest down the scar that would never heal. It was always like this.

Her recurring torment no longer held surprises. Still she went through the motions, utterly resigned. Glancing to her left, Elspeth could see Ajani, muzzle open in a roar of warning, arm outstretched - the rescue that would never come. His face, though distraught and distorted, was the closest thing to comfort these visions had to offer. She wondered how her warm-hearted companion was faring without her - and was grateful, as always, that he had not yet joined her down below. 

To the right, the marble of Heliod’s temple stretched on forever. She had tried to run before, many times, but the hard stone ran on without end. It was not possible to hide from Heliod. Running could not save her from that spear, nor the return of the vision the following night.

Her fate was this: the agony of Heliod’s betrayal and the agony of Heliod’s spear, forever. Every night in the Underworld her dream had been constant. Elspeth, alone and unarmed, before the might of the sun - until tonight. Elspeth felt it through the fog of her dream. The change. Her power. As before, the Sun God plunged his blade into her chest, a ray of light which pierced armor as easily as the clouds. She heard his taunting words above the pain of her chest and the pounding in her head.

“_ Godkiller! _”

Elspeth fell to her knees.

“_ Usurper! _”

The spear tore out her heart.

“_ Miasma! Thief! _”

This was Elspeth’s fate.

Tonight, though, as the spear pierced her heart once again Elspeth had an epiphany. Up to now, without quite even realizing it, she had accepted her fate. It was what she deserved - for failing Mirrodin, for failing Daxos, for _ surviving _when so many under her care had not. But this was not true. All her life, Elspeth had been ready to sacrifice herself for the weak and the innocent; to make the goals of others her own. Service was her watchword. 

But she had more to offer those she loved than her life. Elspeth had her strength. She had her gift, her planeswalker spark. Her life had ended, but her existence had not. Her service and her _ power _ had not. The time for meekly accepting her fate and languishing in the underworld was at an end. In an instant, she decided to break free. 

In that moment, Elspeth knew her fate belonged to _ her _.

For the first time in her long torment, Elspeth grabbed the spear which had brought her low. Felt the energy of a god coursing in her palms as she looked up into the eyes of Heliod and gave words to her defiance.

“I am no usurper, Heliod!” Elspeth cried out, biting back a second cry as she pulled the divine weapon from her chest. “And Xenagos was no god!”

She pushed herself to her feet, turning the shining weapon still soaked with god and mortal blood around to face the architect of her miseries. 

“I have taken nothing, save what you have brought before me, what you have given me countless times!” 

Fatigue left her limbs. Her torn-out heart pounded fierce in her chest. Elspeth had had enough. She knew the weapon in her hands well enough and she would not suffer it to be used against her one night more.

“With this spear, I will rid my dreams of you!”

Elspeth Tirel held Khrusor, Spear of the Sun, in her hands. Before her stood the foe. She did not need to be told what to do next. For the first time in a thousand nights, Elspeth raised a blade. Amidst the endless expanse of her dreams, she fought, and Khrusor sang.

The Sun God’s spear sang of its new bearer, of her sorrows and her fall. Elspeth’s feet stirred into motion, boots pounding against the marble, building up her speed. Heliod, massive in life, was gargantuan here in her mind’s eye. Undefeatable. Impervious. Elspeth’s blood ran cold as it always did at the moment of battle. For one instant she could hear the groaning of her companions and the chittering of Phyrexian machines. 

Then that moment passed, her grip grew sure, and Elspeth hurled the sun’s own rays into the Sun God’s face. 

As it left her hand the gleaming silver blade tarnished. Its radiant flames turned dark and malevolent. The black dart soared through the air and vanished against the vast expanse of the Sun-Crowned nightmare. Heliod’s earth-shaking tirade cut off as it pierced his nyx-born hide.

“I had forgotten the weakness of the gods,” Elspeth shrieked as the wind picked up and swirled around her. “It is the mortal heart that gives you strength! _ Those who raised your temples built only their own prison _!”

Already, though, her dream was fading; already her dream was gone. Elspeth awoke amidst the Ilysian Grove. The spear she had taken - _ her _spear - was still within her hands. The golden mask of Erebos still bore down upon her brow. Elspeth tore the gleaming prop aside and threw it to the ground with a thunk. Standing, she called out to the sky and whoever cared to hear.

“Erebos Bleak-Hearted! I should not be here, and I will not stay! Erebos, part your veil or Khrusor will do my bidding!”

The God of Death did not answer her threats. Elspeth realized she could not sense the presence of the King of the Underground. Instead she heard only the bitter laughter of one whose heart was no doubt just as bleak. She whirled around to see a pale and fog-shrouded figure known to others as the pillager of dreams. The Planeswalker, perched upon a stone, watched her outburst and laughed.

“Who are you, disrespectful one?” muttered Elspeth, lowering her spear. “Another servant of the gods?”

“My name is Ashiok.” Each word was like a whispered secret. “I trade in dreams.”

“Then _ this _ was your work? These many nights - You came to meddle with my head?” 

Her knuckles grew white, clenched around Khrusor. 

“Explain yourself.”

The interloper smiled wider, though it was difficult to tell with more than half their face vanished into aether. “You know, I don’t think I will. Nor am I your most pressing concern.”

She scowled at this, stepping back. “Do not seek to bar my way. I am _ leaving _ this place and all such riddles behind!” Ashiok ignored her, ostentatiously unconcerned by her words or her weapon.

“Who could bar the path of a Planeswalker?” The being laughed again. “How many worlds have you fled, which you could not save? It is well you chose now to wake,” murmured the thief of slumber, gesturing towards the spear she held, “For there will soon be little left of this plane but what you carry in those unpleasant dreams of yours.”

Elspeth did not respond with words, but raised her hand and loosed a pulse of binding magic to silence their sibilant tongue. Ashiok tilted their head, and the spell of binding dispersed like a snuffed candle. Before she could prepare another spell, the ground beneath them shook with sudden violence, staggering them both.

“I won’t fight you, Tirel. I doubt it would end well for me if I should try. If you wish to save this place, I would not dream of stopping you.”

“Then stay out of my sight, Ashiok. Far from my dreams.” The name was of no world she knew, and felt awkward on her tongue.

Her threats were interrupted as again the ground shook, now with greater force, and a spiderweb of gleaming lines spread across the starry sky like cracks upon broken mirror. After so long beneath the earth it took only a moment for the knight to realize that the _ sky _ was shining down on her through a million cracks in the veil of Nyx. Not an illusion or a dream. The real sky of Theros and the freedom for which she longed.

If the threats or the earthquake phased Ashiok, they gave no sign. “Go and save this world of heroes.”

Elspeth spat upon the ground. 

“I am not a plaything of the gods, Ashiok, nor of you.” 

But even as she made her declaration, the dream-thief was vanishing into smoke. Elspeth knew the strange creature could not have Planeswalked, but there was no time to waste with whatever they had planned.

Looking upwards at the growing cracks and hints of blue sky above, the knight held a vision of Akros clear in her mind. She held aloft Khrusor and pointed it at one of the cracks-- she would be free all too soon.


	8. Relentless Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elspeth begins her trek through the Underworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a wait! Work has picked up, so I've slowed down. Still pressing onwards!

Elspeth ran through Ilysian groves with her curious Nightmare Spear in hand. It still felt as cold as when she had awoken with it, but that discomfort was minimal. Determination burned in her chest, and she pressed through the ways until she burst through the gate.

There stood the strange Nyxborn with the olive skin and dark-green hair. He held three large needles in one hand, connected to long, silvery strands of thread. The stranger held his legs out in a wide stance. Elspeth recognized it as an attempt at a fighting stance, but it was too wide. His legs were not planted correctly. 

“The Underworld will not be kind to you, hero,” the Nyxborn warned, “You would do well to go back to Ilysia. I will accompany your trip to make sure you do not go astray of fate’s design again.”

Elspeth clanged the end of her spear against the ground and stood straight.

“Who are you, to try and stop me?” Elspeth asked.

“My name is Calix, and I am an agent of destiny. Your destiny is not to escape.”

“My fate is my own, and I will not suffer the manipulation of any more gods.”

Calix twirled his needles as his mouth became a thin, hard line.

“Fine. The hard way.”

Elspeth tightened her grip on the spear as a dozen muscles shifted through her body before she actually visibly moved an inch. Calix’s movements were so obvious he may as well have been shouting what he was about to do. The three needles in his left hand left it in a low arc. Elspeth leaped forward. The needles abruptly moved mid-throw, but even this unusual power Elspeth had some preparation for. She swiped her head to the side and all three missed her.

Calix yelped when Elspeth’s fist crashed into his face. He crumpled immediately. Elspeth glanced down at him and saw he’d blacked out, blood pouring from his nose. She almost pitied him-- he’d obviously never been in a real fight before. 

Just as Elspeth turned towards a cavern system, she heard footsteps behind her. A dark-skinned woman in flowing robes appeared from the shadows.

“What are your intentions?” Elspeth asked carefully.

Her voice itself was like a slightly tilted spear-- not fully hostile but far from relaxed. The woman looked at her with eyes glowing blue and green.

“To observe,” said the woman, “My name is Eutropia, Elspeth Tirel, and I have been lost in the Underworld for days. Thassa and Nylea have guided my path to here, and I believe you are my only chance to flee these shadowed halls. Might you suffer my company?”

Elspeth took a breath. She’d never been one to turn aside a plea for help. The Knight-Errant nodded, and Eutropia gave a faint smile.

“I appreciate this.”

Elspeth and Eutropia walked side by side through the caverns. Motes of green and blue light trailed in Eutropia’s wake, while black smoke plumed from the disconcerting spear Elspeth held firmly. The caverns were dark, but far in the distance, a red light flickered.

And as they entered, Elspeth thought she could hear the faint sounds of screaming… 

***

Minutes after Elspeth and her friend ran off, Calix sat back up. He placed his left hand on the back of his head and gently rubbed. Flickers of light sparked and faded out as he sought to heal the ache through his body. 

“So that’s a real fight, huh,” Calix grumbled, “Gods above, she’s got a mean left hook.”

The Nyxborn glanced at the ground and picked up a few strands of brown hair. He’d clipped them during the fight, and she hadn’t noticed. Why would she? She was a soldier, a martial expert trained in combat. She had magic, sure, but it was very direct and straight-forward. She wouldn’t understand there being a use for that… 

Calix infused the hair with golden-green light and pulled a small weaving from his back pocket. It was a simple circle with a few criss-cross lines through the center. Calix carefully took a needle and wove the strands of hair into the circlet. 

Visions flooded his mind, and inspiration took hold. Calix wove new sigils of power, and his body was surrounded with white light. Auras of myriad powers and capabilities wreathed him. Calix felt strength rushing through his veins. He punched the nearby wall and it shattered. He pulled back his fist to see the solid-green light unscathed. 

“Yeah, yeah, _ yeah _,” Calix said, pumping up.

The Nyxborn took off running after his quarry. 

***

Elspeth had not trekked through the Underworld when she was brought to Ilysia-- the magic of the Underworld had brought her directly to it. She had no familiarity with its dangers or even the others who struggled to exist within those dangers.

Of course, she had all too much familiarity with danger, and even the darkest horrors of Theros paled in comparison to what Phyrexia had conjured before her.

When Elspeth and Eutropia broke through the caverns of Ilysia into the wide open battlefield of Agonas, the Twice-Favored Prophet let out a small gasp. Elspeth’s eyes narrowed, her heart slowed in her chest, and her muscles tightened. She could smell burning metal and scattered blood-- every warrior’s instinct she had carefully cultivated flared to life in her soul. 

“Stay back,” Elspeth said, “I’ll take lead.”

Eutropia nodded. The women walked across the great field littered with corpses. Swords and spears and axes and dozens of other implements of war gouged the ground. Broken armor and shattered shields were as plentiful as rocks on a mountainside. Elspeth’s steps were sure-footed and quick to find purchase. Eutropia took a lighter approach, seeming to glide over the detritus as they walked.

The empty battlefields gave way to increasingly active ones. Elspeth’s nostrils were filled with the scent of charred flesh and burning hair. Eutropia stifled a gag. Smoke filled the air, making it difficult to see more than a few dozen feet around them. 

As the duo walked through the galling smoke, they warily watched nearby combatants furiously locked against one another, sword against sword, spear against shield, fist against claw. When fighters fell, their opponents would crash into other fights-- first ganging up on one then fighting the remaining challenger. On the edges of the field, broken but still living fighters crawled away into corners, hoping not to be noticed. 

A minotaur noticed them first, and Elspeth felt a jolt when she recognized the great horns as the Rageblood who had lead the minotaurs against Akros. His lips curled into a vengeful sneer. The beast’s hand snapped up to grab the head of a satyr who had lunged towards him. Elspeth winced as blood and bone slid from the Rageblood’s hand as the fingers closed. 

“_ You _…,” snarled the Rageblood.

Elspeth held up the Shadowspear with both hands. Eutropia pulled back, watching closely as the Rageblood stormed towards them. The Twice-Favored clasped her hands together, and Elspeth could hear the oracle chanting fervently towards Nylea and Thassa. 

No fear bubbled within Elspeth-- she gripped the Shadowsper and stepped forward. The Rageblood swung a broken axe with the speed of a viper, but Elspeth was not so out of practice. She ducked and swung up her spear, which clanged against the axe and sent it just far enough off-track that it missed the mark. It bit into the ground as Elspeth rolled to the side. The Rageblood pulled his axe free just as Elspeth plunged her Shadowspear up through his ribs. The minotaur howled and fell back, his howls increased by Elspeth pulling the spear free.

The Rageblood held his side and stumbled back. His nostrils flared as he dragged his axe across scraps of bronze and other detritus on the ground. Elspeth swivelled her spear left and right as she slowly circled around him. Neither looked away from the other. Eutropia clasped her hands together.

Elspeth saw the creature’s shadow first. It was massive, too large to properly conceive of at first. Like a small mountain. One immense hoof lifted up through the smoke into their little pocket and smashed down onto the Rageblood. Hateful eyes peered through the smoke, and four twisted horns appeared as a monstrous ox leaned in. Gouts of fire plumed down its back. 

“Mogis’s red eye,” Eutropia hissed quietly.

Elspeth flourished her spear and clenched her hand into a fist. It took a moment to gather the leylines, but they were there. Even this far away, she found the energy. She clanged Shadowspear against the ground to provide her the focus, and lights flashed. A squadron of four soldiers constructed from shining, white light appeared on either of Elspeth’s side.

The ox bellowed, and its gusts of breath cleared much of the smoke. Elspeth and Eutropia could see an extensive battlefield, and all eyes were on them. Creatures of all sorts, sapient or otherwise, looked up at the ox and down to the humans who stood against it. 

Fire plumed down from the ox, but Elspeth dug deep for her old magic, and golden shields encircled her and her companions. Just as the fire broke, her soldiers leaped into action. The squadron ran as one, leaping unimaginable heights and slashing at the ox’s sides. It twisted and snarled, kicking one into oblivion. Elspeth’s hands shone with light and the other three soldiers surged with power. She grunted under her breath.

The ox reared down with its horn to strike at Eutropia, but two of them leaped back and crossed their swords against it. The ox was held back long enough for the Planeswalker and the prophet to get clear. 

“The leylines here are weak. Can you help me find a stronger one?” Elspeth asked quietly, “I’m lining up a strike.”

Eutropia nodded and held her hands together. Her eyes shone with green light. She retreated further and further, wafting into the smoke. Elspeth and her three soldiers ran circles around the ox, as it smashed around the battlefield. Just as the horrid beast crushed two of her remaining squadron, Elspeth felt the rush of energy. Eutropia had done more than snap together leylines for her. Elspeth felt a weightlessness to her, and she used it quickly. 

Golden light flooded through her Shadowspear as she leaped up towards the belly of the beast. She became a harpoon of pure light for a moment and did not dim until she exited the ox through its back. Gore burned away from her body as she floated in the air above the ox. It lowed and collapsed to the ground as blackened blood gushed from the wound, catching fire as it flowed. 

Elspeth tapped down on top of the dying ox’s body and looked out over the battlefield. Smoke began filling the air again, but she could still see hundreds of combatants. They stood completely still, as if compelled to stare up at her. A few began raising their firsts. One shouted a cheer. Others followed suit, and soon the entire battlefield was cheering the victory.

“The ox was inflaming their emotions,” Eutropia said, “You freed them from its control.”

“What’s your name?” shouted a nearby satyr.

“My name is Elspeth Tirel! I killed Polukranos, the World-Eater to save Theros. I slew Xenagos, the False God, to save Theros. I was killed by Heliod, but now… Now I seek to kill him in kind and save Theros one last time.”

Elspeth held up her spear, now wreathed again in that nightmarish magic. In the face of such raucous blasphemy, Elspeth half-expected them to riot, but instead their cheers grew louder.

“What is that spear?” asked a centaur.

Elspeth stared at it for a long moment. She looked back the crowd, some of which were obviously expectant. 

“This… is Khrusor,” Elspeth said. 

Her voice came out uncertain at first. But as she spoke the name of Heliod’s spear, her voice strengthened. 

“That’s the name of Heliod’s spear. He killed a terrible cyclops that had crushed me. I saw him wielding it a month ago, as I lay dying. He still has it!”

Elspeth stuck the blade of the Shadowspear down into the ox’s flesh. It easily pierced the tough hide and more ichor flowed. 

“Could anything but Khrusor kill this monstrosity in a single blow? I have Khrusor! Heliod wields a fake!”

Elspeth and the crowd cheered for a brief time, and someone demanded stories. Elspeth had told the story of killing Polukranos and Xenagos a dozen times by now, and she was well-versed in it. Once finished, she dropped down to find a smirking Eutropia.

“Inspired choice. You have an interesting game, Elspeth.”

***

The battlefields of Agonas were harsh and cruel, but Elspeth and Eutropia were quick-witted and strong. They walked for hours until the fires and blood dwindled away. Darkness crept in to replace it, and they huddled by a rock for mild shelter to rest.

If it were anywhere but the outskirts of Agonas, they might have wanted a fire. As they were, it was plenty warm. Elspeth had removed her torso armor and boots, trying to breathe deep and relax for a while. Eutropia eyed her inquisitively.

“So,” Elspeth said, “What’s your story? You’ve already heard mine.”

Eutropia smiled warmly.

“It is a long winding tale, full of long journeys in the forests and sea in equal measure. I fought no great monsters-- indeed, I spent most of my time either avoiding or fleeing them. I was not as wise as Callaphe, who could speak her way out of any confrontation, nor as proficient as Renata, who slayed hydras.”

Elspeth nodded her head.

“There are always others with their own skills. That’s why working together is so important in anything. How’d you catch the eyes of two gods without getting killed? All four of the gods I met tried to kill me.”

Eutropia chuckled. Elspeth smiled.

“I was kind to their creatures and stayed respectful of their spaces. I did not carve out a space for myself, I merely… found one.”

Elspeth blinked. Some part of her ached for that kind of quiet life out in the middle of nowhere, where no one knew her name. 

“You… blended in.”

“Yes. One does not always gain favor by standing out.”

They spoke for a little longer, before settling in to nap properly. Elspeth took first watch, then Eutropia. It was poor, fitful sleep, but it was shut-eye. 

At least, it was.

***

Eutropia was just getting ready to awaken Elspeth when a needle sprouted from the ground beside her. Calix flashed out across the empty battlefields, hidden among rocks, and crashed into Eutropia. The priestess fell back as Calix drew back up. 

Elspeth was up in a flash, albeit without her armor. She did not grab for her spear but simply drew up her fists. She stepped towards Calix, who swung fast. The impact did not shake her free of her form, but she winced at the strike against her arm. He’d improved, gotten stronger somehow.

They ducked and weaved around each other, carefully dodging one another’s jabs. Elspeth took the upper hand-- she had memorized the terrain they stood on in an instant. It took careful manipulation, constantly punching on one side before suddenly swapping to the other, before she could get Calix to stumble over the uneven ground. The moment he wavered, Elspeth crashed in. Her right fist smashed into his face, and her left pummeled his abdomen. Calix cried out, before his howl turned into a wheeze with the second punch. Calix collapsed into a groaning heap. 

Elspeth could not bring herself to kick a downed foe, as much as she wanted to. Instead, she helped Eutropia to her feet. The priestess clasped her hands together and whispered fervently until an intricate weaving of vines erupted from the earth and closed in around Calix. The Nyxborn man snarled in protest, but the vines did not relent.

“This should hold him for a time. May we continue?” Eutropia asked.

“You upset the natural order!” Calix called, “None who die on Theros should interfere with the living! Surely you understand this…”

Elspeth met his gaze, saw the thin line of his mouth, and could feel the anger as something palpable.

“All of Theros will be upturned if I’m not there to stop it. That’s all I care about,” Elspeth said, “If you or your creator care about the natural order, then help me save this world.”

Calix closed his eyes. Elspeth could see wisps of golden light forming in his grasp and knew he was working on an escape, so she took Eutropia’s hand and they set off.

Tizerus awaited them.


	9. Shatter the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elspeth and Eutropia fight an Enemy of Enlightenment and continuing spreading the word of Khrusor. Calix sees an unbearable sight aboveworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter count changed! The Underworld scenes have gotten a bit longer than I intended and there was the idea for an epilogue I realized I needed.

Elspeth and Eutropia entered the shadow-choked halls of Tizerus with their hackles raised. Eutropia fidgeted constantly as the cold and dark crept closer around them. She set her power to work and it blazed around her, blue and green ethereal streaks following her as she walked. Elspeth kept her Shadowspear raised-- she did not fidget or squirm, but her head was on a swivel. The tiniest noise grabbed her attention, but the knight errant did not let her fear show. Eutropia needed a firm hand at her side.

“So, Eutropia, why do you love your gods?”

Eutropia glanced towards Elspeth with a quirked brow. She thought on that for a moment, biting her lower lip gently. Memories of Thassa guiding her to secret islands or Nylea whispering to her to look just past the trees at a unicorn she had drawn to the glade flittered through Eutropia’s mind.

“Love is a strong word. I respect them and their power. I enjoy their company.”

Elspeth snorted.

“Are they not cruel?” Elspeth asked.

“Is there a place you’ve been to which is not cruel?” Eutropia challenged.

Elspeth thought of her home, overwrought with horrors unthinkable. Of Mirrodin, conquered and twisted. Of Alara, unbroken but unrecognizable. Of other worlds littered with monsters and disasters and, when those were in short supply,  _ people _ who were all too happy to bear the burden of tormenting one another.

“...No,” Elspeth said.

“The gods are our thoughts and dreams. The world is dangerous. The ocean can bear out lovely bounties for years, but a careless sailor could drown their first day out. The forests are gorgeous sights with plentiful food, but even an experienced hunter’s luck can run out-- leaving them to be the meal instead. Fire brings creation and destruction.”

Elspeth clenched her spear tight.

“Our gods are us, and we are our gods. Any fault with them is one we can find within ourselves.”

“Even Heliod?” Elspeth asked.

Eutropia was quiet.

“While I have little affinity for Kruphix, I have journeyed in the same circles as his prophets. They have spoken to me of the histories of Theros… Tyrants have risen and fallen throughout our world’s lifetime. Do you think Heliod’s arrogance is unique to him?”

Other faces reared before Elspeth’s mind’s eye-- Nicol Bolas, Tezzeret, Elesh Norn… 

“No,” Elspeth said quietly, “Arrogance is all too common.”

There was an uneasy silence lingering not between them, per se, but it filled the air and made Elspeth’s skin itch. This darkened world of crumbling rock unsettled every inch of her. 

“You’ve asked me a tough question, Elspeth, so permit me one in kind, hm?” Eutropia began.

Elspeth nodded. Her eyes glanced through the darkness, but no sign of anything yet.

“Why did you decide to leave the Underworld?” 

“Easy. The world is rumbling. Something stirs, and it must be stopped. I can, so I must.”

Eutropia clicked her tongue.

“While I’m sure you are ever the hero, Tirel, there must be more to it. You didn’t see any other hero jumping up from Ilysia, did you?”

Elspeth thought of Kynaios, Tiro, Hixus, and the dozens of others. They had not gone running. Why had she? She thought for a long while, and Eutropia let her wonder for a time. But the silence must have been unnerving, as the Twice-Blessed spoke out again.

“Were you not at peace in paradise?” Eutropia asked.

“No,” Elspeth said, “I have… I have failed too many people. When I was there, all I could think about… were the people who were denied my reward. If I accepted peace, I had to accept the guilt that came with it.”

She swallowed hard. The list of her failures were, in her mind, too long. 

“I cannot rest until I know that I have done all that I possibly can. Truly  _ everything _ that I can.”

“It is not enough to have killed a hydra and a god, hm?” Eutropia asked.

Elspeth shook her head.

“I am a Planeswalker,” Elspeth said quietly, “I have been to other worlds, Eutropia, though I think you might know as much. There are other worlds which will need my help after I have put to rest whatever currently threatens Theros.”

“Well,” Eutropia said, “Those other worlds will be lucky to have one so well-trained as you, hm?”

Elspeth smiled at her, and they continued on for a while in peaceful silence. The dark drew in closer, but it did not feel as cold. Elspeth breathed a little freer. Even the hissing, rattling wheezes of a terror in the dark did not freeze her heart like it might have once done. 

She raised her Shadowspear. Long, gangly limbs pushed up the engorged body of a dread demon. It roared, and Eutropia clenched her hands together in prayer. Light surged from the priestess, and Tizerus took notice. Wandering souls whose forms had begun to grind down were drawn to the source of light. Elspeth stepped in front of Eutropia as the demon began to circle them.

“You would do well to leave us,” Elspeth said tightly, “I bear Khrusor.”

The demon chuckled deep in its throat.

“I care not what you call your toothpick, little thing, only that you are  _ flesh _ . I’ve not felt fresh blood dribble down my chin in eons, and I crave a proper feast.”

They battled in spurts. The demon would leap forward and slash, but Elspeth parried or Eutropia dodged. Elspeth got one slash with the Shadowspear, and the demon became wary of it. Its presence surged with a hateful, fearful aura. Elspeth could feel the old fears blossoming in her heart, but she quashed them down. 

Eutropia’s magic kept her light on her feet, but the light from her magic began drawing in more than just stray eidolons gazing upon a show. Lampads crept at the shadows, only partially revealed when she or Elspeth moved too quickly, before scuttling away from the light. A terrible mass of limbs, a horror indescribable, made to seize the priestess. Elspeth slashed it just as the demon had pulled away. It howled and retreated. 

Elspeth and Eutropia both felt their breathing quickening, could feel their joints stiffening from the prolonged efforts. The demon snarled. Its tongue lolled. The gold plating on its form glinted and gleamed. 

“It’s getting stronger,” Elspeth hissed.

“It… is feeding on our exhaustion. It’s only tried to keep alive and wear us out. Protect me for a moment. I have an idea.”

Elspeth ducked forward and swiped furiously at the demon. She summoned a handful of soldiers-- bright, glowing creatures with spear and shield in hand. The effort put sweat on her brow, but Elspeth kept going. She flourished her spear as the demon snapped its jaws. Two soldiers attempted to grapple it down, but the fearmonger threw them to the side.

The demon flexed its growing muscles and lunged for Elspeth. She brought up the spear, which the demon tried to push to the side. She proved stronger than the dark creature expected, and it bit into the demon’s side. The demon pulled back an arm and made to swipe, but something happened.

Eutropia happened. Blue light swirled across her and struck Elspeth. Clarity returned. Her mind sharpened. The demon visibly  _ shrunk _ , and Elspeth was able to pull her spear through it with ease. The creature howled as the Shadowspear’s energy surged through it, then began dissolving as its bisected halves fell away.

Elspeth shouted a victory cry. The eidolons pulled in close. Few had defined features, but one of them had eyes wide in astonishment.

“Look at her spear!” cried the wide-eyed eidolon, “It slayed a demon so easily!”

Eutropia glanced towards Elspeth, who had already raised it high into the air.

“Behold, the true Khrusor! Heliod wields a fake!”

Elspeth spent some time regaling the spirits of her tale, with Eutropia nodding serenely along to her performance. The eidolons cheered her tale and began flittering off to the corners of Tizerus, brightening the pathways as they rushed to tell others.

“Why the lie?” Eutropia asked, when the eidolons had finally cleared off.

“Who says it will stay a lie?” Elspeth replied.

With that, the knight errant turned and walked on through Tizerus. Eutropia blinked, then followed after.

***

The vines broke after several hours. Calix dusted himself off and looked at the faint glimmers of his immense weavings, fading out after Elspeth beat him. His entire body thrummed with pain, but he stood up despite it. His wounds knitted together. He hissed as it happened, the strain bringing its own pain. Calix shook himself for a moment and pulled on the strands of destiny. He needed to understand what was going on in the upper world, but the sight of it… 

His knees buckled at the sight.

***

High in Nyx, Mogis, Phenax, and Pharika waited for their essences to regenerate from the damage dealt to them in the fight against Heliod and their opposition. Even now, they were not whole, but they were not patient either.

“I’ll kill Heliod for this, I swear it,” Mogis snarled.

“He and all his worshipers shall never find a clean drink again,” Pharika hissed.

“I’m done waiting,” Phenax said, “I’m not at full strength yet, but I’m sure I know of a way to gather enough worship to fix that. Join me for a moment, my brother and sister?”

“What are you scheming?” Pharika asked. 

“Heliod thought to protect his  _ precious poleis _ ,” Phenax said, “So that he might accrue power. Make the mortals forget us and the other gods. Let’s remind the mortals that they  _ do _ have reason to fear again, hm?”

Mogis and Pharika grinned wide. The three gods’ constellations shone and dissolved as they ripped themselves from Nyx and poured down in three purple streams of light. Their rain flew down all the way to Meletis.

Phenax bore out a great shadow such that the day could no longer be seen. The citizens cried out at the sudden shifting shadows. Pharika called up all the nearby vipers and serpents, overlooked in favor of the greater monsters outside the bounds of the city. She breathed hideous poisons upon the populace and they screamed as their veins caught fire. Mogis stretched for a moment, whispering in the ears of many to incite them to violence. Grunting with hideous laughter, he popped his shoulders and reared back with his mighty axe. It tore through a building and chaos reigned.

The blind city, so suddenly full of poison and violence, collapsed by the end of the day. Buildings collapsed, temples burned, and blood poured through the streets.

Heliod brought himself from a skirmish outside of Akros to find Meletis ruined and gnashed his teeth in anguish. Three starry black constellations stared out from the red lights of the burning city.

“You brought this on yourself, usurper,” Phenax snarled.

“You overturned the natural order for  _ this _ ?” Pharika said.

Mogis simply bellowed and pointed his axe at Heliod.

“You will regret this,” Heliod boomed, “I am Heliod, God of the Sun, Lord of Light, and King of Theros!”

He brought up Khrusor, and bright light pierced the darkness cast over Meletis. The constellations solidified into the gods in their full form. They brought their weapons up, and Heliod leaped into battle against them. 

The sun shone bright.

And Theros trembled.

***

Calix regained his footing and clenched his hands into fists. There wasn’t time. He had to hurry. He didn’t understand his mother’s plan. Twin threads unfurled before him-- he saw Elspeth high above the world fighting the Titans, but he also could see her deep in the earth, trapped and forced to watch the world burn. 

It could not be the case that Klothys wanted that second thread to come true, but Calix felt compelled to bear it out. He wanted to curse her name, but he held his tongue. 

Destiny was not for him to decide.


	10. Glimpse of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elspeth and Eutropia fight through Nerono's harsh waters. Aboveground, Heliod finds a near-dead Daxos, who has heard curious rumors from the Underworld.

Elspeth was almost dizzied by the bright lights of their next arena. Tizerus was so deep and dark it was often difficult to see her hand in front of her face. Nerono was dim by overworld standards but blinding against Tizerus. Her eyes adjusted such that she could see a wide river-- too wide to cross by normal means. It did not simply go straight-- it moved at odd angles. 

As Elspeth’s vision cleared and she could peer farther into the distance, she could see that the river wove through Nerono in such a way that it created a seemingly never-ending maze… Her heart clenched.

“The gods would never make anything so easy,” Elspeth said, “What’s the trick here?”

“Nerono’s waters bring forgetfulness to those who touch or drink them,” Eutropia said.

Elspeth gritted her teeth. Something about that was tempting. If there was a way for her to forget all the horrors of her childhood… but this was too great a price. 

They wandered together through the shifting roads of Nerono, careful to stick towards the middle-- as far away from each bank as possible. Harpies would occasionally flitter by and scope them out before moving on.

“Why do they not attack?” Elspeth asked.

Eutropia stared at one flying off. 

“They wait for Nerono-bound souls to drink the water before attacking. We’re okay for now.”

“So they’re as opportunistic as the ones up top,” the knight errant said.

Eutropia nodded and they carried on. Thoughts buzzed through her mind and she started trying to remember her life, curious if she would even realize if there was something she’d forgotten.

The women talked idly about their lives-- Eutropia shared details of adventures in the deep forests and the open sea, while Elspeth talked about her time fighting during the Maelstrom on Alara. 

“What other worlds have you been to?”

Elspeth sighed deeply and thought of Mirrodin. She began explaining the strange world entirely made of metal-- it was hard elaborating on the concept of steel to someone whose world had not advanced beyond bronze. Eutropia became stuck on altogether different detail.

“How many suns?” she asked.

“Five,” Elspeth said, “One white, one blue, one black, one red, and one green.”

“Each with their own gods?” Eutropia asked.

Elspeth shook her head.

“Mirrodin had no gods,” Elspeth said, “It might… It might have fared better if they had.”

“Tell me of your Mirrodin’s suns,” Eutropia said.

A knot formed in Elspeth’s gut as she thought about Mirrodin, but a calm settled there with it. Mirrodin had fallen-- Elspeth doubted it could be saved. But it _ could _ be remembered.

She spoke of each sun for a while, what they meant to her. She lingered on the white sun, and how it provided hope that life could not be vanquished so easily. Though the black sun would surge against it with deathly visions, the white sun continued its relentless orbit.

They walked through the maze as they talked, occasionally realizing their path was a dead end and moving on away. Harpies surveyed them but never struck. Elspeth could taste salt in the air, and worried for a moment, but couldn’t think of why it worried her.

Eutropia enjoyed the idea of the blue sun best, it seemed, and she asked more and more questions regarding it. Elspeth talked for a while, but the words began to fail her.

“Come, come,” Eutropia said, “Tell me more of this Mirrodin…”

Elspeth looked to her with an arched brow.

“What’s Mirrodin?” she asked.

Eutropia’s eyes widened. She seized Elspeth and stared into her eyes. Eutropia’s eyes wandered until she could see the gentle spray of Nerono’s waters had filled the air and some had collected on her face. Eutropia reached up and felt a dampness on her own face.

“You’re not naturally skilled in mind magic,” Eutropia murmured.

“I’m plenty skilled with martial magic, so kindly unhand me, stranger,” Elspeth said.

Eutropia’s eyes blazed. Her hands wove blue lines in the air. Elspeth was reminded of a gorgeous sun at its highest peak, but she couldn’t remember ever having seen it… 

And then it came flooding back. Eutropia’s eyes peered into hers and Elspeth remembered staring up at five suns… she remembered fleeing to Theros… 

Her breath became sharp as her memories flooded back. She clutched her chest.

“What was that?” Elspeth hissed.

“Nerono’s waters fill even the air. Let us go quickly,” Eutropia said.

They quickened their pace. Eutropia began launching herself into the air-- flight for long distances was untenable, but she used the brief time for an aerial view. Together, Eutropia and Elspeth managed to get through the maze. 

Just as they reached the end, a familiar face stood waiting for them. Calix dangled from twin threads, staring at them upside down. 

“Hello again,” he said.

Elspeth’s head pounded with the memory-grinding magic of Nerono, barely kept at bay by the strangely familiar spell Eutropia had spun on her. 

“I don’t care why you’re doing this,” Elspeth said, “But you’ve got to understand… you’re risking all of Theros. Surely you can hear it?”

As if to emphasize her point, the cavern walls rumbled, and Nerono’s rivers sloshed about. Calix dropped from his perch and spun to land on his feet. He pulled an enormous weaving that was holstered on his back and dropped it to the floor. A glorious, golden-white throne appeared before Eutropia and Elspeth’s eyes. It looked familiar, and that familiarity brought a peculiar dread to Elspeth.

“It can’t be,” Elspeth said.

Calix spun a green weaving that wrapped around his form. As he did, it rang out against the golden throne, and a being emerged from it. Its wings extended in full glory and it bore a righteous sword.

“All the way from Bant?” Elspeth asked.

“From your memory of it,” Calix said, “You could never use the Empty Throne’s power, but it was practically _ made _ for me.”

The angel flew down to meet Elspeth, and Shadowspear met Bantian steel. The clash rung out over still waters, and Nerono rippled. 

***

Heliod fell away from Meletis after a full day of fighting. The coalition had overpowered him. Fueled by fear and anger, the trio had become a terrifying force. He bled ichor furiously from Mogis’s axe wounds, his essence writhed under the influence of Pharika’s venoms, and his head swam with Phenax’s visions. Even days later, he could not fully separate them from reality.

He soared high above the ground now, overviewing other parts of Theros. _ His _ Theros. This was merely a setback. He would gather his coalition, and they would grind these troublemakers into stardust. 

A cry made its way to his soul, and Heliod stopped. He spun in place as it rang in his godly soul. 

_ MASTER! _

Daxos. 

Heliod held his hands out and light filled the area. Daxos appeared in his palms, broken and bleeding. He had been in Meletis when it fell. The crushing blows had not killed him, nor the poisons… but it had laid him low. It had taken him long to recover, but Heliod’s presence was quickening the process.

“Lord Heliod,” Daxos groaned, “I have news of hope.”

“I could use it right now, little Demigod,” Heliod said.

“As the city was being destroyed, holes into the Underworld were ripped open. I could hear things from down there…,” Daxos said.

He took a long breath as he struggled to recover. Heliod leaned closer.

“What things?” Heliod asked.

“They spoke of a champion coming up. She held a spear that was capable of bisecting the worst monsters of the Underworld…,” Daxos said.

What passed for blood in Heliod began to run cold. His eyes narrowed.

“Tell me more,” Heliod asked.

“She could surely defeat the wretched gods who destroyed Meletis. They say she has killed a god before.”

Heliod stiffened. 

“Go to the other cities,” Heliod said quietly, “Tell Iroas and Karametra to prepare for a fight. I must attend to other matters.”

Daxos nodded.

The earth rumbled as the God and Demigod parted ways.

And Heliod’s chains felt heavy upon his essence.

***

Calix wove sigil after sigil, each one connecting with the Empty Throne as it crashed into the ground. Some of them became auras which swirled around Calix, others became creatures which stalked towards Eutropia.

They had been fighting for long minutes. Elspeth had summoned a fleet of mana-charged soldiers and kept them as her first line of defense. She had to pull on old magic, from her days on Bant, to keep the soldiers capable of fighting the flying angels. 

A trio of glowing Nyxborn satyrs rushed towards Eutropia. The Twice-Blessed laid down runes which shone with renewed mana-bonds, but she was slow to get moving. One of the satyrs leaped forward and kicked her in the chest. Eutropia screamed, and Elspeth pulled towards her.

As the knight-errant was distracted, Calix made his move. He whipped out with cords and needles, jumping towards Elspeth as his attacks found a mark. Golden light filled the area, and Calix struck Elspeth in the back of her head. The Planeswalker grunted and swung back around. She couldn’t help Eutropia-- not yet. 

Elspeth and Calix circled one another-- Calix would strike and jab with needle and thread, while Elspeth spun her Shadowspear to deflect his advances. She could sense Eutropia stirring-- a quick cast of some strange magic and lights bloomed which kept the satyrs at bay. She had to end this quick to get over to him. 

Angels flew high above them, the soldiers Elspeth had summoned long gone. They held up swords and spears, aiming for Elspeth as they prepared to strike.

“You’re surrounded,” Calix said.

“But never beaten,” Elspeth replied.

As the angels swooped down, as the satyrs made another charge, and as Calix swung forward with glowing energy, Elspeth channeled her deepest reserves. She had a penchant for saving others, for creating forces and building them up. 

But Elspeth also had a penchant for destruction, when she really needed it. 

White light erupted from Elspeth, and the nearest eidolon wondered if Heliod had come through. The angels and satyrs howled as they were consumed in her white fire. Calix was blown back by it-- one of his auras shattered but kept him safe. It washed over Eutropia harmlessly. Elspeth pressed her advantage-- with Calix off-step, she was able to get the Shadowspear under his throat.

“You’re just a distraction,” Elspeth said, “And not one I need right now. Do you not care about this world?”

“Why should you?” Calix demanded, “Why should I trust the destiny of my world in the hands of an interloper who has no stake in it?”

“I LOVE THIS WORLD!” Elspeth roared, “It is full of _ life _ and _ love _. It has been terrorized by agents beyond the citizens’ reckoning, but it is filled with magnificence! I will not let it suffer at the hands of anything! NOT EVEN HELIOD!”

Calix backed away, his hands in the air. Only the barest flicker of energy betrayed his next move, but Elspeth was faster. She lanced out the Shadowspear, and waves of auras shattered from Calix before the spear found a mark in his abdomen. It wasn’t a deep cut, but Calix howled as his blood began flowing. He placed a hand over it, weaving something to patch the cut. The Nyxborn glanced over, clearly expecting another angel to manifest.

He did not expect to see golden-green vines wrapped around the Empty Throne, intercepting the energy and cracking the enchantment. Eutropia grinned at Calix as he snarled in fury. A small crowd of eidolons had been drawn to the spectacle.

“Look!” said one of the spirits, “I hadn’t believed it, but one of the others heard a rumor… She wields Khrusor itself!”

Elspeth allowed herself a small smile-- it was working. Shadowspear thrummed in her hand. She glanced back towards Calix to see the Nyxborn backing further away.

“Not over, Tirel,” Calix said, “Not yet. My mother’s designs are too strong to be turned aside.”

Elspeth watched him turn and flee through Nerono’s maze. She had half a mind to go in after him and put an end to it, but the ground rumbled again.

“I don’t know how much longer I can maintain myself in this place,” Eutropia said, “We need to hurry.”

With a sigh, Elspeth relented, and they pressed upward, ever upward. Freedom was so close now… 


	11. Dreadful Apathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elspeth makes an exception, and Calix has a revelation.

For miles and miles around her, Elspeth could see nothing. It was bright white-- as if she were in an actual void. Eutropia was right beside her, yet Elspeth could barely see her. The harsh light of Phylias blotted out the priestess’ appearance.

Elspeth had borne out the harsh fury of Agonas, the bleak fear of Tizerus, and the mental haze of Nerono. They were all familiar struggles to her. She had been tormented by Phyrexians and Nicol Bolas throughout her life. They were forces she had grappled with time and time again.

Phylias brought something she hadn’t prepared for. It was almost more comparable to the subtle aura of Ilysia-- that relaxing calming feeling. Only dialed up to eleven.

_ There is nothing left for you. _

_ It is all over, anyways. _

_ You’re dead-- let the living tend to the living. _

Thoughts like this poured into her mind, and Elspeth Tirel buckled under the weight of it. The relentless despair that nothing she could do would be good enough.

_ Your efforts on Phyrexia were fruitless, Elspeth. _

_ You’ve done enough here. _

_ What if you just make it worse? _

_ It’s better to just… lay here… _

Elspeth gasped and coughed. She hated this crushing weight-- it did not belong to her. She _ deserved _ to relax, to waste away if she wanted…

After Bant.

After Phyrexia.

After Daxos.

After Xenagos.

She had done _ so much _ . Elspeth had done more than any single person on Theros could even _ conceive _ of, let alone accomplish! 

Beside her, Elspeth could tell Eutropia had collapsed. The woman held her head in her hands, groaning softly. The harsh rays pierced through the blessings of Nylea and Thassa and left her vulnerable.

Vulnerable.

Weak.

In need of someone.

For a long moment, Elspeth glanced around, hoping someone else was there. But there was no one. Eutropia was hurting, gone in some sort of wretched daze, and that meant she needed a hero.

And that would have to be her.

Elspeth knelt down, straining against not just the impulse but the shrieking _ burning _ need to lay down and give up. Eutropia could not be allowed to languish here. She had friends above, surely. Her gods would miss her.

Elspeth let out a dark chuckle. When did she start caring about gods?

As she picked up Eutropia, Elspeth thought of Thassa and Nylea, and how they would react to Eutropia becoming lost forever. Elspeth did not know if gods could weep, but she felt deeply that they would. That Eutropia was deeply special in a way that could not be explained.

Elspeth did what she did best: she helped others. And in helping them, saved herself.

Elspeth Tirel grunted as she hefted Eutropia over her shoulders and walked forward, ever forward. Phylias was vast, but Elspeth contained multitudes.

“I am Elspeth Tirel.”

Her shadow stretched out far behind her as the knight-errant launched forward.

“I do not give up.”

Phylias’s light burned bright, but Elspeth burned brighter.

“No force of apathy can swallow me.”

In the face of Elspeth’s passion, Phylias began to shrink. Its light dimmed, slowly revealing people and scattered ruins. Phylias focused its will on Elspeth, revealing itself as a broken husk of a place.

“My heart is bigger than all the Underworld.”

Nearly an hour passed as Elspeth walked through the bright, but no longer blinding, realm. Eutropia groaned and began to stir as Phylias’s hold loosened on her, unable as it was to seize Elspeth. The knight-errant allowed the priestess to carefully drop down to her feet.

Eutropia’s face had lost some of its color and she seemed uneasy.

“I had a vision,” Eutropia whispered, “I saw… I saw my gods.”

Elspeth held the woman’s arm firmly. 

“Nylea and Thassa… they are fighting… terrible creatures,” Eutropia said, “The Underworld is broken, fractured… Monsters so old they had been forgotten are escaping in the fray.”

Elspeth nodded. They had to keep moving. Eutropia’s breathing became steadier as she began walking, but she was still shaky.

“They are working their hardest, but it is not enough. Something worse looms within the Underworld, but it is not far from the surface.”

“The rumblings. That mysterious shadow weaver was right,” Elspeth said, “Come on.”

Hours passed as the women walked quickly through the Underworld. Eutropia pulled water from the air around them. Though it was sparse, it quenched their meager needs and allowed them to press on.

Elspeth swiped at the grime on her armor. She’d cleaned and scraped it the whole time she’d been in the Underworld, but the mass of enemies had eventually overwhelmed her ability to keep it shining. Gashes and dents littered it. For her part, Eutropia had to abandon her ceremonial cloak-- the hat and twin bands coming down from it had become blood-stained and ripped, no longer sacred. Her head was exposed, though she had little hair. She typically kept it shaved, but it had been some time since she’d been able to.

“First thing I do,” Elspeth said, “is bathe.”

“The stink on us might kill whatever it is coming up,” Eutropia said with a chuckle.

The ruins gathered as they went, becoming more frequent and larger. These had not been ground into dust so thoroughly. People of various species were laid across the stairs and altars. Minotaurs occasionally lowed piteously. It was a terrible sight.

Elspeth stopped. She looked around her. Eutropia eyed the knight-errant as she knelt down beside a human teenager and gently tapped him on the shoulder. The boy looked up at her with glassy eyes.

“What could you have done to possibly deserve this?” Elspeth asked.

“I… didn’t save my mother,” the boy said, “She was drowning… and I did not help.”

Elspeth brushed her fingers through his hair.

“The gods insisted I did not care,” the boy said, “And placed me here. But I…”

Elspeth wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.

“You were afraid,” Elspeth said.

A choked sob escaped the boy. Elspeth’s light radiated from her and she slowly pulled him to his feet. The harsh quiet of Phylias was being undone as inquisitive people murmured and sat up, Elspeth’s presence peeling away the effects of the Underworld on its inhabitants.

“These punishments are cruel,” Elspeth shouted, “And I will not stand for them. Come with me, and we shall break free of this place. Something threatens your world, and I know you care about that, no matter what the hard-hearted gods may think.”

Many among the pitiful dead began to stand as Elspeth talked. She spoke to them, asked them their stories. Many had made poor choices in life, but it was enough. They were penitent and Elspeth saw them in need of a chance.

Eutropia watched in amazement as Elspeth held up her spear.

“WE MARCH!” she cried out.

“What spear is that? It looks familiar,” asked a satyr.

The eyes of a centaur widened. Elspeth smiled.

“The woman the others have spoken of! Much like the Pretender stole Dekassa from Thassa, she has taken Khrusor from Heliod! Surely Elspeth is the greatest of these!”

Elspeth felt her smile flatten a little-- this was what needed to happen, but she felt the faintest fear of something else coming on. Below the cheering, she felt a dread. 

“No,” said a familiar voice, “She is just a woman foolishly tempting destiny. She would lead you all astray.”

Calix emerged from behind the ruins to the side of the Phylian gate. He was flanked by a pair of golden armored knights astride winged mounts. One sat upon a white ox, the other upon a white wolf. The oxen riding archon wielded a spear, while the wolf rider wielded sword and shield.

“Enough,” Elspeth snarled, “We are close, but the threats to Theros are even closer. Hundreds could die in the time you waste.”

“Mother was right,” Calix said, “You pervert destiny. These people are here for a reason! The dead must stay dead-- when they interfere, the living are cut short unfairly. The cycle of life and death is harsh but necessary.”

“I tire of this,” Elspeth snapped.

Eutropia wove together a burst of sigils, glowing signs which slammed into the ground and radiated power. Her eyes glowed green and blue, and an aura wrapped around Elspeth. She launched into the air, Shadowspear held high. Calix snorted. His allies’ mounts flapped wings so powerful all the debris nearby was blown away and took off. 

“We can help her,” said a centaur.

“No,” Eutropia said, “All you need to do is believe, and she will do the rest.”

The oxen rider launched his spear directly at Elspeth. Blue and green ribbons of power rippled around the knight-errant as she spun through the air. She weaved just to the left of it and seized the haft, before spinning the spear and throwing it back. He knocked aside the launched weapon but couldn’t recover from deflecting in time to deal with Elspeth’s follow-through. Her Shadowspear punctured his chest, and the archon howled in pain. 

Elspeth flew past, seized the gore-covered spear from his back and pulling it through and out. The winged ox flew on as the archon dropped from his mount. The wolf riding archon met her with sword and shield. She blocked with the flat of her blade and lanced out, only to meet the shield. They clashed in the air, Eutropia furiously weaving more enchantments to maintain her magic on Elspeth.

Calix, for his part, was setting down strange tapestries. They had no clear form or shape, just endless, waving patterns. Eerie light emanated slowly from them.

Elspeth rained down blows on the archon. His shield cracked, his sword shattered. His armor could not protect him, and his spirit too fled its body. The wolf snapped at Elspeth but a ray of light poured from her and it howled as it retreated. 

_ Where did that come from? _

Calix stared up at Elspeth as the glowing knight-errant descended from her place in the sky. 

“She will surely replace Heliod himself!” shouted the centaur.

A chill ran down Elspeth’s spine. She tapped down before Calix and raised her spear.

“If you save Theros this way, you will surely destroy it in the process,” Calix said.

“If I had to choose between Theros experiencing Bant’s shift or Mirrodin’s destruction, I would choose Bant every time. But I will not allow either to occur. You have to believe that destiny will bear out something greater than what you see. You cannot let _ fear _ rule you!”

“All I have are my mother’s words,” Calix said, “I choose to believe she is right, and that you are the worse option here.”

“We will leave,” Elspeth said, “You cannot stop us.”

“Watch me.”

Calix stepped forward and brought his arms forward, slamming his hands together. The tapestries exploded, light pouring out in a wave so massive and bright Elspeth thought momentarily that Phylias had returned to its searing state. Her vision filled momentarily with a blue gleam before going dark.

When she could see again, Elspeth realized she and Calix were utterly alone. Their surroundings were strange, nebulous, and starry. She had to orient herself and a wave of nausea pulsed up her throat.

“A little realm of my own,” Calix said, “A place of exile. For meditation and self-reflection. For you to see things my way, by reason or _ by force _.”

He slung out his hands and needles flung out, glittering strings trailing. They gripped into the nebulous nothing and Calix shot into the air like he was blasted from a cannon. He swung up with both feet and cracked Elspeth across the face before swinging further then around. 

Elspeth dodged the second spin-kick but got grazed by the third. She groaned as Calix flung himself about the nebulous space with shocking ease, uncertain how to deal with this. She kept her spear up, but he always seemed to anticipate her movements and could pull himself away when she was about to strike. More strings appeared, and she began clipping them with wild swings. 

“The dead are dead, Elspeth! Can you imagine if every dictator, murderer, and tormentor could pull themselves free of the Underworld? You cannot be an exception! No world permits exceptions.”

Elspeth brought up her Shadowspear just as Calix swung towards her. He pierced her hand with a needle, thinking to shock her into opening up, but Elspeth was tougher than that. She pulled back Shadowspear but brought down her other hand. She brought it down like a hammer, catching Calix in the back. The Nyxborn crashed to the ground with a groan and Elspeth got in one solid kick before his needles flung out and pulled him back out to the strange skies.

“There are always exceptions for evil,” Elspeth snarled, “Phyrexia was to have been destroyed. Bant was to be a paradise. They were ruined unnecessarily! FOR EXCEPTIONS!”

Calix threw down a burning drop of light, which began forming itself into a glowing replica of a satyr. It brought up an axe and rushed towards Elspeth. The knight-errant handily skewered it, but the distraction had been enough for Calix to pull by and smash his foot against Elspeth’s back. Only a last second jump from Elspeth kept the impact from being against her head.

“Get over it!” Calix shouted, “You wanna ruin my world because you couldn’t save your own. I don’t care!”

Elspeth brought herself up to full height, eyes blazing. 

“I will save this world!”

Another zip, a miss.

“How do you know?”

Elspeth swung Shadowspear, but Calix pulled over it.

“I don’t! The future cannot be known in full by anyone, NOT EVEN A GOD!”

Calix’s eyes burned. Elspeth and he stared at one another, and Elspeth saw something else she hadn’t noticed previously. _ Fear _.

Calix was doing all of this frightened. But why. He had the upper hand-- he was shooting about so fast and hard it was almost impossible to catch him. He even had the ability to summon on the fly… but when had that changed? Elspeth recalled their previous fights. Calix hadn’t fought her like this-- so fast and reckless. That change meant something.

Elspeth glanced at her surroundings and knelt down to press against the ground. It rippled with magic. Calix shot towards her again, but Elspeth rolled out of the way. She lashed out rippling light that burned Calix’s side. The Nyxborn howled and tumbled across the space. 

Curious power rippled up through Elspeth, and she felt raw heat pouring out of her as she sought to deal with what she was within. 

It was an enchantment. Calix had entrapped them both inside of an enormous enchantment.

Elspeth didn’t have much experience with dealing with them, but this strange power burning inside of her seemed to know what to do. Sunlight poured from her face, producing the curious image of horns as Elspeth slammed both hands against the ground, more light streaking out. The nebulous space cracked in dozens of places, before finally… 

Darkness.

Blue light.

Fading.

Into… light.

Calix lay facedown in Phylias. Elspeth stood up, wreathed in light. Eutropia stared at her with widened eyes. All of the citizens were in awe of her. 

“She has returned from the darkness! She has trampled over the herald of the gods time and again and proven herself worthy! She is Elspeth, greatest of these!” shouted the centaur.

All of the Phylians chanted as they followed Elspeth and Eutropia up through the last arenas of the deadlands. Eutropia leaned over to Elspeth.

“What’s happening to you?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Elspeth said, “But I cannot stand it.”

“Maybe we can get you help when we leave,” Eutropia said.

“Then let’s hurry. The entrance is not much further…”

***

Every part of Calix hurt. He had been running and tracking and running and fighting and suffering for days now. It took all of his focus not to pass out. He stood up, blood trickling from many places, bruises all across his form, a terrible burn he couldn’t deal with.

“I have to… keep going.”

“No.”

The new voice swirled around him like a soft blanket. Calix turned around to see his mother, Klothys, standing in the Underworld. She had assumed a human size. 

“Mom…”

Calix held his hand against his forehead and coughed in a wretched burst. His ribs thudded with each cough and he groaned. Klothys’s hands reached out to support her slumping child. Calix sighed.

“I tried, okay. I tried… but I failed.”

“No, child, you have accomplished what I wanted,” Klothys said, “Elspeth would not have been able to gather faith without an audience, and she could not have captured the audience without spectacle.”

Calix stiffened.

“You used me as _ bait _. A punching bag?” he demanded.

Klothys shrugged.

“Destiny is not kind. It simply is. For Elspeth to save Theros, this was necessary.”

Calix stared. The Nyxborn felt his entire body thrumming with terrible pain, all done to achieve an empty goal never meant to be attained. His heart thudded in his chest and tears welled in his eyes. 

“Destiny did not need to _ lie to me _ . If that was to be my role, I would have done it without deceit! You are my mother, and I love you, but I cannot _ believe _ you would do this!” 

Calix pulled away as he howled at his mother’s betrayal. Klothys watched him carefully. Golden energy swirled around Calix, great trappings of thread rolling off of him, and he suddenly vanished. 

“And this was destined in turn,” Klothys said quietly, “Destiny is not kind. It simply is.”

Klothys heaved a long sigh.

“You are a good child, Calix. If my weavings hold true, you will stay gone, and that will be one fewer Planeswalker capable of meddling with Theros’s destiny. And better still, you may find happiness constructing not only a better path for yourself but some distant world.”

Klothys stared up at the ceiling of the Underworld. Her form began to dissipate, becoming bright, twinkling stars as she lost her corporeality.

“Perhaps it is poor of me to hope that the weavings… do not hold.”

Twin, starry tears rolled down her face.

Then she was gone.


	12. Elspeth Conquers Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elspeth and Eutropia reach the entrance to the Underworld, and so does Heliod.

Sunlight poured through the cracks up above her, and Elspeth knew she had finally reached the highest point in the Underworld. Eutropia let out a low sigh of relief as the light washed over her face. Elspeth clambered over the side and reached down to pull the priestess up. The knight-errant grabbed the wrist of the woman’s right hand with both of her hands and grunted once as she lifted Eutropia up.

“At last,” Eutropia said, dusting herself off.

Elspeth wiped her brow and shook her head.

“Come on, we’re almost out.”

Eutorpia’s eyes widened, and joy filled the girl’s face until she was practically glowing. Her face fell when three successive barks rumbled through the Underworld. She and Elspeth turned their heads to see a large, black, three-headed hound with glowing eyes. Kunoros leaped through the air, and Eutropia screamed.

Elspeth reached for her Shadowspear, when something unsettling happened. Eutropia’s scream cut off-- it didn’t slowly die out but rather stopped entirely. The barks also cut out, along with all noise. Elspeth focused on Kunoros to see it was mid-bound, in a position impossible to stand still through. She turned to see Eutropia mid-scream, perfectly frozen. Standing beside her was a four-armed, pink woman with impossible hair. 

“Who are you?” Elspeth asked, “And did you… stop time?”

Klothys shook her head. 

“The answer to your second question is complicated at first but simple enough. Brains are capable of receiving far more information far more quickly than we give them credit for, and gods are able… to manipulate that. When I stop distorting your personal perception of time, it’ll be dizzying for a second and some of this will likely become more haze than clear memory, but one does what one must.”

Elspeth blinked. She held the spear fast, not entirely sure of the god’s intention, but at least in understanding of her current predicament. The god likely wasn’t fully here, then.

“The answer to your first question is simple at first, but complicated within. All identity is. I am Klothys, God of Destiny.”

Elspeth Tirel had not heard of Klothys, but then, few living in Theros had anymore. Word had begun creeping from a small town in Setessa of her, but the word was new and had not stretched its legs very far.

Something about the god was disarming, but Elspeth knew better than to let her guard down. She held tight, staring defiantly at the god. There was another part of the god, those threads, that seemed familiar and strangely… threatening?

“I see your past unfolding behind you. You’ve been unweaving it for some time, restitching it. For the longest, it was a weight upon your soul, and though it remains heavy… it does not hold you back.”

Klothys pulled out string with one of her four hands and began working it in her lower pair of hands. Her upper left arm held a censer, while the right continued holding her spear upright. Some of the thread was pulled through that curious needle and shone as it went.

“Shortly, you shall have a choice. You will have the chance to take justified vengeance or show undeserved mercy. One will grant you power, one will grant you freedom. Think it through, Elspeth, and make your choice carefully.”

The hero considered the god’s words and finally she lowered her spear. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed as though a small smile appeared upon the god’s face as she relented. Elspeth sighed in exasperation.

“You won’t let me in on the answer, hm? I’m so tired of riddles.”

Klothys shook her head again, sending great waves of her hair rippling in the air. The motion was accompanied by a low, ringing laugh. So gentle and caring, so  _ motherly _ , it made Elspeth’s heart ache for someone she missed. 

“Your destiny is inevitable, but how you grapple with it is up to you.”

The goddess vanished with her weavings, and one final sentence hung in the air.

“As it always has been.”

Time shot forward. Eutropia’s scream and Kunoros’s barking filled the air, until a new sound pierced both.

“ELSPETH TIREL!”

He stood at the entrance to the Underworld-- Heliod, Sun-Crowned. Heliod, God of the Sun. Heliod, Greatest of These. Heliod, God of Theros.

Heliod, Whose Fear Ruled Him.

The news of a woman rising through the Underworld had so thoroughly unhinged him that the god had abandoned all of his plans for conquering Meletis, for beating back the other gods and securing his place above all else, in order to find her. Only a handful of entities on Theros had the scope to understand how pitiful the scene was. Only Klothys had the sense of humor to find it funny.

A gentle laugh rang in the back of Elspeth’s mind, but she wasn’t sure where it came from. No matter. In spite of Eutropia’s shocked gasps, Elspeth drew Shadowspear and held it firmly pointed towards Heliod.

“There are greater problems on Theros, Heliod. How can you blind yourself to all of that?”

Heliod brought Khrusor up and aimed it directly at Elspeth. They charged one another. 

“I am the greatest of these, Elspeth, and that shall remain. The shackles of destiny will not be strong enough to cast  _ me _ down. I am not a god of Theros. I  _ am _ Theros!”

Their spears met and eternity rang out. The sound filled all the Underworld. When Heliod pulled back Khrusor to deliver a jab, he couldn’t see it, but he could feel it-- his spear had begun to crack. 

“Theros is more than any one person!” Elspeth shouted.

The god and mortal danced around one another. Within the Underworld, Heliod had been forced to assume a nearly human-sized form, and so their fight was on nearly even terms.

After all, Elspeth was  _ infinitely _ more experienced in this sort of combat.

Elspeth rolled out of the way of a jab and brought Shadowspear up. It nearly clipped Heliod, instead shearing some of his garb. The god snarled and swung Khrusor with almost wild fervor. It met Shadowspear, and the ringing filled the air once more. Eutropia screamed in the distance.

“Theros is more than any one city!” Elspeth continued.

She lanced forward with her spear and, this time, it sliced into Heliod. He had only just flown to the side, but golden ichor splattered to the Underworld’s floors. The god roared. He raised his hand, and his golden horns shone with power. Light poured from his hand and reached for Elspeth and her spear. Elspeth spun Shadowspear with one hand and held out her other. 

Elspeth’s light flashed brighter and burned longer. 

Heliod, God of the Sun, blinked.

He opened his eyes to see golden horns adorning Elspeth as she charged him once more with Shadowspear. A fear so deep and primal surged within Heliod that he nearly did not bring up Khrusor in time.

“Theros is more than any of its gods! EVEN THE SO-CALLED GREATEST OF THESE!”

Shadowspear met Khrusor once more, and Heliod’s spear shattered. Elspeth stood, with Khrusor in hand, before a weaponless god. Light rolled off of her in waves, and Heliod’s light could not outshine her.

“The people do not believe in you anymore, but they still believe in Theros. They believe in a better tomorrow, in a day where the sun will shine and they will  _ not fear it _ .”

She placed her Khrusor against his throat. Whispers filled her mind--  _ do it. End him. _

“I… surrender,” the god said, weakly.

Eutropia watched intently, her hands clasped in fervent prayer. Elspeth tightened her grip on the spear. Her eyes locked on Heliod’s, and the memory of Godsend shredding her armor and piercing her chest burned bright in her mind. Why not kill him? She had already slain one god, what would one more do?  _ He deserved it. He was beyond redemption. _

Masked eyes appeared in her vision, and she made her decision.

She was Elspeth.

And she believed in a better tomorrow.

Even for him.

Only the faintest line of ichor shone on Heliod’s throat as Elspeth pulled her Khrusor away. A low, dry cackle filled the air. The shadows took shape, long horns spiralling out from the side and reaching high. Erebos’s whip lashed out and encircled Heliod’s throat, bringing him to the ground. The Sun God’s light dimmed completely.

“I shall take care of you, brother,” Erebos snarled, “You’ll never see the light of your own day again.”

Heliod screamed once as shadows enveloped him, and he disappeared. Erebos’s laugh rolled across the realm. Eutropia covered her mouth as if to stop herself from screaming. It wasn’t every day you saw one of your gods beaten and dragged away.

“Erebos,” Elspeth said, “The Titans are coming.”

Erebos arched a brow.

“The others will take care of them, I’m sure.”

“They’ll come for you, eventually. You may not care how many die, but I know you care for this world. Without life… what use is death?”

Erebos grinned.

“You  _ are _ interesting,” Erebos said, “Heliod’s trial will begin in due time. I shall attend to my demigod in Odunos. Go on, then, Elspeth. Take yourself and your still-living companion out of here.”

With that, Erebos dissolved into shadow and faded away completely. Eutropia stumbled towards Elspeth, her eyes wild and mind racing.

“We are… free?” Eutropia asked.

Elspeth nodded and pointed towards the entrance.

“At last,” Eutropia said.

“Come on,” Elspeth said, “We have a world to save.”


	13. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elspeth exits the Underworld at last, to find Daxos waiting for her-- as well as Kroxa.

Elspeth stumbled out of Erebos’s domain with Eutropia at her side. It was not so bright as Phylias, but the feeling was so different Elspeth couldn’t begin to compare the two. Her lungs were filled with true, fresh air for the first time in a time Elspeth could not measure. 

She would have wept if she had not been shocked at what she saw--  _ who  _ she saw. Eutropia felt the shift in the knight errant and paused, looking to Elspeth.

“You’re dead,” Elspeth said, “I killed you.”

The man stood tall but not proud. His head was low. His golden garb was torn and frayed. His eyes were darkened, haunted. A great shield, composed of a Returned mask, adorned his left arm. A light-wreathed sword hung from its hilt on his side. 

Daxos.

“Yes,” Daxos said, “I have begun… to remember.”

Elspeth felt herself moving long before she thought to. She wrapped her arms around him in an instant as a garbled noise crawled up her throat, a strangled laugh-cry. Eutropia watched, her eyes softening from confusion to understanding.

“Heliod brought me back,” Daxos said, “He made me his puppet. There was this horrible light which… blotted out everything. Even  _ you _ . Elspeth… It’s gone.”

Tightness seized Elspeth’s chest. She pulled back and met his downtrodden gaze. 

“What’s gone? Hold on, you’re  _ back _ , we can’t talk about anything being  _ gone _ already.”

Tears filled Daxos’s eyes, and Elspeth could hardly stand to stare into those eyes.

“Heliod commanded me to wipe Meletis clean of all other gods.”

Elspeth could hear Eutropia gasp, and her own breathing became choppy as she heard the pain in Daxos’s voice. The shining demigod shuddered but continued.

“And I did it. I killed dozens of priests who refused his will. And for that sin, Meletis was wiped clean  _ by _ those gods. I am responsible for so many deaths.”

Elspeth reached up with her hand and cupped the man’s cheek.

“I am responsible for yours.”

“I am alive-!”

Elspeth placed a thumb over his mouth, shushing him immediately.

“That does not undo what I did,” she said.

“But… but look at all the good you’ve done since! You saved Theros from that terrible usurper. You cast down Heliod for his crimes.”

Elspeth felt the sun burning on her skin and shivered.

“If that can redeem me, then you can surely be redeemed for what Heliod forced you to do.”

Daxos brought a hand up to grasp hers.

“He did it because he thought it was the only way… to be strong enough to fight the Titans.”

“No one must fight alone,” Elspeth said.

Their eyes burned into one another’s. 

“I will fight by your side,” Daxos said.

He leaned forward, but Elspeth was quicker. Their lips met furiously for a brief moment.

***

The Ruins of Meletis: Mogis, Pharika, and Phenax feel the earth rumbling and hear the howls of the people, their power has been largely restored, but they realize the chaos they caused has ushered the Titans up higher

In the ruins of Meletis, three embittered gods took deep draughts of the suffering that they had caused. The wounds inflicted upon them by Heliod in both their initial and most recent confrontation had finally fully healed. Phenax could feel his shadows lengthening. Mogis’s eyes blazed with power. Pharika stretched as the twin snakes upon her reared up with full fangs, her eyes gazing down at her potion cup-- full at last. 

"The poison of death has revitalized my life," Pharika said, "I shall be on my way."

"Same time next week?" Phenax asked with a smug smile.

Pharika's snakes hissed. As the Snake-Twined God turned to leave, the ground rumbled beyond anything any of them had ever done. It shook so violently the three gods felt their essences beginning to dislodge from the physical earth. 

“But Klothys,” Mogis snarled.

“Her work has been undone,” Phenax said.

“You cannot mean-!” Pharika began.

“Yes,” Phenax said, “The Titans are returned.”

“The chaos we caused. The destruction of Meletis. It aided them,” Pharika said.

Phenax nodded. Mogis narrowed his eyes and looked up at the sky. He pointed his axe, and the other gods followed his gaze up at the stars. 

Pharika and Phenax gasped.

The sky had been torn asunder. Heliod’s constellation had gone dark-- the stars burned out. Those who noticed cried out in terror, though most had reason to shriek without that prompting.

The Titans had burst forth, mere moments after Heliod’s vanishing. 

Uro emerged from a hole in the seabed, and his colossal form tore the oceans asunder as he emerged at full height. His terrible beard was filled with krakens and ships, the life within them seeping away under the immensity of the horrible creature.

A great golden ox came barrelling out of the Setessan wilds and blazed a trail through. Even as her terrible footsteps crushed the wilds, Eupito’s aura revived and amplified them. Forests became towering jungles and fauna became beasts of horrifying sizes.

Talbos’s manifestation went unnoticed. The smallest Titan was simply not there, and then there, in the middle of Akros. She looked about her, seeing the soldiers milling about. One vanished with a wave of her hand-- his parents having never met. Others began fighting, as they suddenly recalled old grudges and vicious insults. She grinned as her chaos spread further and faster.

Kroxa did not emerge from a hole in the Underworld-- he made one. Chewing through weakened structures, Kroxa ate his way through the bounds of the Underworld and emerged into Theros with a roar that shook the world. 

The Titans had returned, and the King of the Gods had gone. Fear rippled through Theros so raw and powerful it was nearly palpable. 

***

Thassa screamed as her seas were pulled from her so violently and completely. Nylea howled to feel her wilds ripped out of her grasp and thrust into a form foreign to her touch. The other gods could feel their domains being slowly encroached upon, but they were the gods most immediately threatened.

The pantheon entered chaos for a moment, as the gods thrashed in revulsion as their powers were challenged. Only one voice remained calm, and it rippled out through the others like a wave.

“Heliod has fallen,” Kruphix rumbled.

There was a flicker of gleeful malice emanating from Erebos. As for the others, shock rippled throughout amidst a wave of complex emotions. They had known Heliod for countless decades, centuries, and although none of them truly cared for him, his continued presence was reassuring in some ways. Dependable, if a nuisance. Even when the sun was too hot, it was good to know it would always be there.

“The Titans are here,” Kruphix continued.

Many of the gods snarled in response, letting out visceral noises which cracked the air. 

“Theros is in danger like it has never been in mortal memory.”

Visions of a brown-haired woman wearing silver-white armor and holding a spear that shone like the sun filled the god’s minds.

“Elspeth Tirel has taken up Khrusor against our enemies, but even she is not enough on her own.”

Purphoros clenched his jaw tight and picked up his hammer. Nylea strung her bow, tears of pain rolling down her face. Thassa brought up her harpoon, her tentacles viciously stirring in the air. Erebos cracked his whip and grinned.

“If we are to have a tomorrow, we must fight for it ourselves.”

More and more of the gods ripped themselves free of their constellations and churned through the astral pathways of the starry skies down towards the earth.

“As the mortals created us to do.”

***

In the Setessan fields, three gods stood. Previously in opposition to the trio who destroyed Meletis, Iroas, Karametra, and Ephara stood with heads hung low.

“My city is gone, and I am to blame. I did not notice… I did not  _ let myself _ notice what he was doing. I thought only about an ideal that cannot be achieved,” Ephara said in a low voice.

“He fooled all of us,” Karametra said, “I thought to protect my children, but now they are in greater danger than ever before.”

Iroas raised his spear.

“There is only one thing for us to do to cleanse ourselves of the miasma which our actions have garnered for us,” Iroas snarled, “Fight.”

The gods dissolved into millions of motes of light and rocketed out from their place to fight for their lands.

***

Kroxa had emerged at the maw of the Underworld with thrumming power. His hunger manifested even in the very air-- it pulled the moisture from it so quickly as to feel like a vacuum. Elspeth, Daxos, and Eutropia stared up at the terrible beast.

For a brief moment, Elspeth could feel her spark stir. But she put that fear away. This was not her world, but it would be her fight. That had been decided long ago.

“Who’s your friend?” Daxos asked.

“Funnily enough, I nearly asked the same,” Eutropia answered.

“Daxos. Eutropia. Talk later.”

Elspeth grabbed her Shadowspear-- no,  _ Khrusor _ , its blinding radiance had been shaped time and again by her careful nurturing, but it was  _ The Khrusor _ now, with both hands and pointed it at the Titan. Eutropia smiled. She cast her arms out wide and the air thrummed.

“No one should have to fight alone,” Eutropia said, “And now that we are amongst the living, my gods’ beloveds are here with me again.”

Elspeth smirked, then turned her full attention against the Titan. He had picked up a foot and taken a shaky step. Kroxa had not been able to stretch out or move significantly in centuries-- the motion was unusual. The terrible creature roared and hundreds of mouths opened across its form to join in the cacophonous howl.

Growls and snarls and roars of a different sort rose up from Theros to answer the Titan’s call. Leucocrotas, vicious wolves, and centaurs rode out from the nearby forests, while sirens and air elementals flew in from the coast. Eutropia grinned.

Kroxa noticed the intrusion with amusement. The largest of his mouths opened in a terrible grin and he reached down one teeth-covered arm to snatch up a centaur. The screaming creature fired arrow after arrow into the Titan as it fell into its gaping maw. 

Elspeth tightened her grip on Khrusor and rushed forward. The light of the sun blared against her back, and it made her blood boil with purpose too great to conceive of. Daxos ran alongside her, his sword out. His swirling aura blared against her, amplifying that strange power that snapped at her even as it pushed her higher.

The disciples of Nylea and Thassa, called by Eutropia, made their move against Kroxa. They relied on his size, ducking and weaving around him and attacking where they could. A stampeding brigade of centaurs ran between his legs, shooting arrows and throwing axes. A bold air elemental though its half-corporeal status would protect it found itself bitten viciously by one of the mouths on its arms. Others were more cautious.

Elspeth leaped into the air. Eutropia’s power did not touch her, but the strange light emanating partially from Daxos and partially from a source Elspeth didn’t want to think about carried Elspeth higher than she had ever jumped prior. The knight-errant landed spear-first on Kroxa’s back. The Titan howled as light poured into the wound. It shook and twisted and stumbled, beginning to fall on Elspeth. The knight-errant hurriedly ripped out Khrusor and launched out and away.

The Sun’s Nemesis felt golden light carrying her through the air as she flew--  _ flew _ \-- away from the Titan. Kroxa stamped and roared and swung his horrid arms-- and more creatures died, feeding his awful hunger. Elspeth felt fear blossom at the thought of getting Daxos back just to lose him immediately.

“NO MORE!” Elspeth bellowed.

“Agreed,” came a voice.

Three pillars of golden light solidified around her, and Kroxa found himself staring down Iroas, Karametra, and Ephara.

“So, you are the inheritor of Heliod’s legacy, hm?” Ephara asked.

Elspeth found herself uncertain of how to respond. The golden light rolling off of her and Khrusor in hand didn’t refute the god’s words, but the knight-errant knew she couldn’t stand the thought of ascending to anything like godhood. Karametra raised up in her arboreal throne and made brief eye contact with Elspeth.

“Thank you for what you’ve done, Champion,” she said, “Will you help us once more?”

This was in her wheelhouse. Elspeth nodded and gave her spear a brief flourish before settling into a fighting stance. Iroas mirrored her and let out a war bellow so great the forests bent away for a long moment.

Kroxa rushed forward. The gods met him. The world shook. 

Hunger met the Polis. As it always did, the Polis shuddered in Hunger’s presence. Unable to handle it at first, Ephara fell away wounded and buckled. But she soon found her ground as the Polis always does-- the community can stare down famine and come out on top. Organization overcomes the primitive fears of those without certainty. And so Ephara fought.

Hunger met the Victory. Though the Victory was a time of celebration and feasting, it could not truly compete with Hunger. Iroas stabbed and skewered and battered Kroxa, but the war god knew in his essence that no war was won on an empty stomach. Iroas fought, but he could feel himself becoming unsteady.

Hunger met the Harvest. Karametra knew the risks of famines greater than anyone-- her poleis required great amounts of fruits and vegetables to keep its ecosystem going. She was prepared exclusively for this. Kroxa bit into Karametra but found she had far more to give than he expected. And so Karametra fought.

The gods of Theros had solidified themselves over millennia, steeled against the terrors of the dark. Famine could warp civilization, to be sure, but they had weathered those dangers and come out on top.

Iroas buried his spear deep in Kroxa even as the Titan bit and chewed and mangled Karametra. The Plenty-Blessed God screamed in pain but she clung to Kroxa and blasted a strange, green-gold light into the Titan that seemed to hold him there. Ephara seized the Titan’s arms with chains from her great pithos and pulled. The Titan struggled to feed on the God of the Harvest, finding himself unable to break away.

Even when Elspeth brought Khrusor up high. Its radiance blotted out the sun, for it was the Sun. A golden-horned Elspeth brought the spear into one of Kroxa’s massive eyes.

Light filled the Titan’s vision as the spear’s light blasted down through his form and ruptured it entirely. 

Elspeth floated in the air then, holding Khrusor up as she looked towards the three battered and wounded gods. Down on the ground, she could see the corpses of so many of Eutropia’s kin. But she could also see the living, Daxos among them.

“WE CAN FIGHT!”

She swung Khrusor out and golden light sung from the blade, scouring the remains of Kroxa. Black smoke filled the air and wafted away on the winds. Daxos raised his sword and cheered.

“AND WE CAN WIN!” Elspeth finished.

The Soul of Theros rumbled, and the other three Titans felt a flicker of fear run through them.


	14. The Gods' Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gods of Theros begin facing off with the Titans.

The people of Theros felt the wind kicking up. The leonin sniffed the air and felt ill omens on those winds. Minotaurs raised their axes and bellowed. All of Theros raised up arms against the foul Titans which threatened their existence.

Uro didn’t notice them. The elder being raised up a hand to scratch his unimaginably large beard, dislodging a suffocated octopus like it was lingering food. Each step towards the shore that he made caused tidal waves and brought terrible monsters up from the bottom of the ocean. Horrifying creatures which the Deep-Dwelling God had locked in the darkness and fought when needed-- krakens so large they dwarfed cities and serpents which could encircle and break ships with ease. 

Theros would not need to worry about the detritus Uro drug up with his every step-- the sheer force of his power and the sudden rupturing from the dark depths to above sea level caused these cataclysmic creatures to die in his wake. Their corpses would be buffets for weeks, if Uro left anything alive in the sea to eat the behemoths he had murdered without notice.

Thassa was there to ensure his rampage stopped. The God of the Sea rose from her domain with her harpoon held high. Uro towered above her, but the Titan stopped in his tracks to gaze down at the god standing in his way.

Bright red light blasted from the heavens and struck Uro. Steam erupted in massive plumes as temperatures as hot as the center of a volcano met the waterborn elder being. The red light flew back towards Thassa and solidified as the Bronze-Blooded God. Purphoros wore shining armor and wielded Akmon, his hammer, with a steady hand but obvious fury. 

“He cannot be allowed to step on the shore,” Purphoros rumbled.

“He won’t get near it.”

Thassa swung her harpoon less like a weapon and more like a conductor holding a baton. The ocean bowed to her whims and the seabed was exposed around Uro. The Titan struggled to hold his great weight aloft so suddenly and fell back, crashing into the ocean. The gods seized their opportunity and rushed the elder being.

As Uro crashed into the ocean, his immense form and grating aura stirred the water and air about him to life in horrible ways. Twisted elementals flared to life. Grayed lightning elementals, sickly-green air elementals, and pitch-black water elementals all surged from the spray as Uro’s essence seeped from him. Thassa and Purphoros prepared to fight them to get to Uro, but no need.

Keranos slammed down from the clouds in a blazing, purple light. He manifested in full force and seized a lightning elemental in a chokehold. His aura flared out and a wrathful storm dispersed the air elementals entirely. Their watery kin, smoking and burned by his assault, turned and charged towards the Storm God. 

That’s when the air shimmered, and Kruphix appeared. His four arms swung wide, and doors appeared in the very air. The elementals rushed through them, unable to turn in time, and the doors disappeared.

Thassa and Purphoros continued their charge, smashed into Uro. Thassa brought waves higher and higher to cover the parts of the elder being she could, up to his neck. Gouts of flame surged and slowly ate through the strange, natural watery armor the Titan wreathed himself in as Purphoros tried to knock the Titan out. For the giant’s part, Uro only groaned and rumbled as he tried groggily to stand back up.

But stand up he did. 

With a sweep of his hand, Uro sent Purphoros flying. 

Another great sweep, and Thassa crashed down into the depths.

And Uro began to walk towards the shore, more hateful elementals pouring from his essence. Keranos and Kruphix continued to keep them at bay, but the onslaught proved too great for them to even begin to divert attention towards the source. 

“Any one of these elementals could destroy a city before dissolving,” Kruphix said.

“Better not let them in then, hm?” Keranos replied.

The Storm God brought both hands against the sides of a water elemental’s forming head and the thunderclap struck two more elementals before weakening out. He heard a low roar, different from any of the elementals. 

“CYMEDE!” 

Keranos blinked as he saw a human with an enormous axe flying on a pegasus through the air straight for him. Recognition filled his face just as Anax brought his weapon against the god. Keranos recoiled and struggled to ignore the wound. 

“Ah,” said the Storm God, “I remember you. I’m still recovering from our last argument, when you were still alive. I’d rather we put this aside for now, hm?”

“Cymede,” Anax snarled, “I will have her back.”

Keranos snapped his fingers and a red, glowing woman appeared at his side. The fire in Anax’s eyes dimmed for a moment as he gazed upon the familiar face. Her bouncy coils, still kept barely in check by golden wreath-pins, and soft face were contrasted by the sharpness of her gaze.

“There you are,” Anax said, “At last… at long last.”

“You foolish man,” Cymede said.

The favored prophet, wreathed in lightning, flew towards the dead king. 

“She can ride and fight by your side for now, Anax,” Keranos said, “We’ll settle the matter of where she goes later.”

“I think she can decide that,” Anax snarled.

Keranos arched a brow but turned his attention back towards the twisting elementals. He and Kruphix ducked and weaved through them, thrashing, dispersing, or blasting the terrible creatures. 

Anax looked to Cymede with wide, pained eyes. She pressed a hand against his chest and felt his irregular heartbeat.

“Why did you abandon our country?” she asked, “Why did you sacrifice so much stability that I worked so hard for?”

“Because it meant  _ nothing _ without you,” Anax said.

“You brainless oaf,” Cymede said as she pressed her head against his shoulder.

“You heartless harpy,” Anax grunted.

They flew through the elementals with a battle cry then, and Anax felt whole again. Down below, Callaphe rode out with her oars, churning the sea in the right places to call up Thassa’s children. Octopi and merfolk struck out against the elementals. Callaphe herself occasionally sent well-timed water jets to keep them at bay. She looked up at the erratic sky, where gods and demigods fought wave after wave, and felt her heart thrumming.

“She’s not waking up fast enough,” Callaphe said.

And so the old woman leaped off of her boat and down into the sea. The currents followed her command and changed course, enveloping her and rocketing her down, down, further down. On the seabed lay a barely stirring Thassa. Callaphe reached out with both hands and grabbed one of the goddess’s tendrils.

“Come on, old girl,” Callaphe whispered, “That Titan is going to destroy the depths you’ve sworn to protect. He’ll drag the sea out across the land until the two no longer have distinction.”

The god stirred. The blow from the Titan had rocked her to her core, and it had been almost nonchalant. This creature was beyond mortal comprehension, because it was forged from the worst mortal fears. 

Callaphe held tight against the great god, still unable to recover. Her starry Nyxborn patterns shone brighter and brighter as she spoke.

“I’ve sailed all of your seas, Deep-Dweller. I’ve ridden countless waves, and I have staked out over one hundred of the islands in your domain. This creature is great, but you are beyond even it. Nothing can envelop you, because you are not just the god of the sea.”

Thassa’s eyes opened. She held out her hand and her second Dekella, forged recently by her beloved Purphoros, shot through the water and into her grasp.

“You  _ are  _ the Sea,” Callaphe finished.

Her form lost its corporeal nature and she became pure light, filled with blue stars. Thassa sat up and stared up through the sea. Callaphe’s constellation-light pierced through the darkness of the sea, but even without it, Thassa could have seen the now-distant Titan.

The Sea God snarled and dragged Dekalla along the sea bed, and blue light trailed behind it. Far off in the distance, low guttural roars and the roaming sonic tones of the undersea behemoths responded to her call.

Thassa’s eyes had gone pure blue, shining bright as she summoned up every ounce of her power and gathered it within herself. Callaphe’s illusory form trailed behind her as the Deep-Dweller rose up through her domain. 

Uro was now only a mile from shore-- the waves from his steps battered shoreside villages and threatened to wash them away entirely. Thassa could hear the cries of mortals pleading with her to save them. Dekalla fled her hand and entered Uro’s back. The Titan rumbled and turned back towards her.

“PURPHOROS!” Thassa bellowed, “GET UP, YOU LOUT!”

Her roar caused the tides to break and crash. In the distance, Callaphe could hear a low rumbling that broke and surged-- laughter. The Bronze-Blooded surged up from his spot on a nearby mountain, lava spiking up in the air with his resurgence. 

“Kruphix and Keranos have the elementals under control,” Callaphe said, “Anax and I can help you and Purphoros.”

“Of course, Beloved,” Thassa said urgently, “We will need all the forces of Theros marshalled against this thing.”

Shadows loomed within the deep and tentacles spiked up through the air to grab on to various parts of Uro, snagging and peeling away the moss and detritus that composed his form. The Titan went to move, but Purphoros was suddenly before him with Akmon held high. It crashed into the Titan’s face and Uro’s entire form was singed by a wave of heat so vicious and scalding it caused the surface of the sea to boil off below.

So Nature’s Wrath met the Forge. All that life creates can be undone by nature in floods and hurricanes and storms, but the Forge does not care. It dusts off its anvil, polishes the hammer, puts on its gloves, and starts again. The Forge accepts the changes of life and any disaster which may come its way. And so Purphoros fought.

Thassa brought up hundreds of her denizens to launch up and seize Uro. Octopi, krakens, leviathans, and serpents all lined his legs and held him fast in a terrifying display. Her eyes shone bright as she brought Dekalla into Uro’s chest.

So Nature’s Wrath met the Sea. The Sea can be churned by harsh winds and made inhospitably dangerous by storms. It often bears out the wrath of nature with tidal waves and floods, but there is one thing that always holds true about the Sea. Nature’s Wrath comes and goes, but the Sea is always there. There are long stretches of time where the Sea is calm, and no matter how furiously the Wrath stirs it, the Sea always returns to its calm. And so Thassa fought.

Anax and Cymede leaped from the pegasus and landed on the giant’s shoulders. They brought their weapons against its neck. Lightning-filled daggers sent terrible bursts through the elder being’s form, while a burning axe blackened and hacked through the other side.

Uro no longer moved. He sought to bring up his arms, but they were weighed down by great beasts of the deep. Purphoros seized one to help when he saw it begin to rise in spite of the unimaginable weight. His other hand brought Akmon down on Uro’s back again and again, while Thassa pressed Dekalla deeper.

“You relic, you ill-suited creature,” Thassa sneered, “You cannot possibly seize my domain from me. You will not destroy my world! I am Thassa, and I shall not be trifled with so easily ever again!”

The skies were filled with red and green stars-- Callaphe noticed them first. Minotaurs and humans, all of them Nyxborn, materialized high in constellations and corporealized as they fell. Callaphe saw the needles and thread they wielded.

“Dreamshaper Shamans,” she whispered.

The legends of these warriors were long-forgotten, and their connection to Klothys had been forgotten entirely. The Nyxborn Dreamshapers cast out their thread and spun it as they fell, weaving a net that expanded as they flew out from one another in a synchronized dive. Its appearance was gorgeous-- more than a net, it depicted great bursts of fire above a scene of a calm sea.

“PULL AWAY!” Callaphe shouted. 

Purphoros reacted fastest, seizing Anax and Cymede and leaping back away from the Titan. Thassa took a moment, but she whistled as she wrenched Dekalla from Uro’s chest, sending spurts of green-black ichor through the air. Her denizens loosened their grips and fell into the sea in bursts of seafoam and waves. Uro began to reach out with bruised, broken arms.

Then the net fell upon him, and his ground-down essence succumbed to Klothys’s weavings. Uro howled as his form caught fire and burned away like week-old tinder. 

The gods and demigods watched in awe as his ashes scattered on the wind, black smoke filling the air. 

On the air itself, they could hear a distant call.

“WE CAN FIGHT! AND WE CAN WIN!”

Anax held up his axe.

“DAMN RIGHT!” he shouted.

Purphoros and Thassa bellowed in great victory. The Dreamshapers, now floating on top of the sea where their net was dissolving, cheered in kind. Cymede wrapped her arms around Anax and pressed her lips gently against his cheek. Keranos descended with the last, dissolving corpse of a water elemental.

“Well, Anax,” he said, “Let us… discuss.”

The shining window of Kruphix’s form manifested beside them.

“Perhaps in a moment,” he said, “Theros’s peril is not yet finished.”

***

Far off, by Odunos, Eupito had roamed. The golden ox had left horror in her wake, and creatures too humongous and fierce to describe followed after. Nylea had followed too, her glowing arrows finding their mark in the many monsters Eupito had recklessly created.

Within Odunos, Erebos stood tall. His form loomed so vast and wide it looked as if he might crush the world itself. Surrounding him were Mogis, Pharika, and Phenax.

“Nylea will be needed for the Titan itself-- deal with its spawn,” Erebos boomed.

The other gods nodded and streamed out across the world in blackened light. A hydra loomed larger than Polukranos, and its heads each threatened to chew through a building. It opened its maw to snap at Nylea but found its throat filled with poison. The creature’s roar become a pitiful hiss as it fell over and died.

Three chimera, composed of parts from goats, dragons, lions, oxen, and beasts too old to remember, surged up from Eupito’s footprints and began to head for Nylea, but a darkness surrounded them. Their primitive minds were manipulated easily by Phenax’s hands, and the beasts soon tore each other apart.

A cyclops pulled itself together from the dirt clods kicked up from the golden Titan. The harsh-looking creature was so gargantuan it could likely pick up a mountain. It pulled up its fists to smash the roaming God of the Hunt, but Mogis’s axe cleaved his head from his body in moments.

And so it went, the three vicious gods choking out the life of everything that Eupito could muster up against them. Nylea’s arrows found their mark in the giant ox’s back, plumes of energy surging through them. 

Erebos flashed out from Odunos and slashed with his whip, striking the Titan with a blow that could knock the world off its course. Eupito bellowed and life flourished in greater amount. Nylea leaped forward and seized the beast. Erebos slashed out again, but pulled so the whip snapped around the Titan’s neck. He yanked and the beast was brought to its knees. Nylea produced twin daggers which she plunged into its back.

“Life must have an upper bound,” Nylea hissed, “Your wretched power will upturn this world in due time.”

Eupito gnashed its teeth and launched up to its full height, kicking out wildly and seeking to buck the god off its back. Nylea held strong. Erebos pulled the whip taut, but the Titan was too wild and strong. It leaped forward and gored Erebos with one of its immense horns. The god roared in pain and clenched Eupito’s head with both hands. Black light surrounded the Titan’s head and it continued to buck, more panicked and less furious now. 

Eventually, the creature loosed Nylea from its back and tossed Erebos from its horn before charging away. Pharika, Mogis, and Phenax continued their trajectory, following and carefully murdering every horrible entity that sprung from Eupito’s trails. Erebos pulled up to his full height again, a hand placed against his wound. The flow of ichor stopped and the wound disappeared. Nylea stood up, her bow strung with three glowing arrows as her head swivelled to lock onto her target.

“It will succumb,” Erebos said calmly, “All life does.”

“Even gods can die,” Nylea said, “So let us not grow arrogant. We’ve seen what that did to Heliod.”

“Yes,” Erebos said, his grin returning, “We have.”

Whip and arrow found their mark once more.

And so Life’s Bounty fought the Hunt. Their struggle was an old one. The wrong animal in the wrong place could spring forth unexpectedly, its population spiralling out of control. Only dedicated hunting kept life in true check. And so Nylea fought.

And so Life’s Bounty fought with Death. Their struggle was even older, older than Theros itself, reaching back to a time not known by any creature in the entire Multiverse. Life springs forth in all its forms, but Death calmly follows after, self-assured in how its prize will come to it in due time. Even the Returned are not stealing from Erebos, merely… borrowing. And so Erebos fought.

They drove the Titan intentionally. Erebos’s whip and Nylea’s arrows acted as deterrants, forcing Eupito this way and that, until it reached Odunos. The Titan bellowed and strange golden fire erupted from its maw, sending waves of fruitful life ahead of it. 

“NOW” Nylea shouted.

Just as dozens of beasts without clear shape formed in front of the gates of Odunos, Tymaret leaped from the parapets with a hammer as big as he was. Renata followed suit, launching dozens of arrows that struck the Titan in its eyes-- the sudden pain causing the ox to stop and roar in pain. For his part, Tymaret roared long and loud as he brought the hammer down and shattered the structures holding up the ground that Eupito was now standing on. A quarter-mile of earth gave way, dug out by thousands of Returned with great wooden structures built in a criss-cross net to hide the massive pit. Immense spikes lined the pit, which soon skewered Eupito’s form.

But even with dozens of spikes piercing the ox all the way through, jutting out and covered in rivulets of terrible ichor, the creature would not die. It was  _ Life’s Bounty _ , overflowing with immense purpose and terrible aims. The Titan struggled against the trap, and the spikes began to snap. Erebos’s eyes widened. His lip curled into a sneer.

“You insipid beast,” he growled, “Too stupid to know you are  _ dead _ .”

“No,” Nylea said in horror, “It is still thrumming with life.”

“Not for long,” came a distant voice, “My designs are in place.”

Constellations manifested, and a new net was woven by the dozen skydiving Dreamshapers. Of peaceful forests, with a rising dawn behind them. They wrapped Eupito in the weavings of Klothys, and the ox moaned as its essence finally gave way to Klothys’s designs and burned away.

Tymaret crawled out from the pit, Renata kneeling at the edge with her hand lowered to help him up. Mogis, Pharika, and Phenax emerged from the forests, their forms scarred and bloodied, but ultimately alive. Erebos and Nylea turned to them.

“You kept me safe,” Nylea said, “You have my thanks.”

“A debt of gratitude, perhaps?” Phenax asked.

The Keen-Eyed snorted. Phenax pressed the tips of his fingers together and grinned.

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” he said.

“My Ferryman is elsewhere,” Erebos said, “There is still one more Titan, and he tells me it will need… all of our attention.”

Unable to linger and celebrate, the gods and demigods dissolved into light and streamed far afield, their essences shattered and unwieldy, uncertain if they could do this.

Then came a voice, echoing through the Soul of Theros.

“WE CAN FIGHT! AND WE CAN WIN!”

The gods felt their strength renewed as they bore down on the final Titan.


	15. Chapter 15

In a single afternoon, Talbos had been out in Theros for years. She would flow into a mortal’s timestream, back to early portions of their life and strike out. Countless manipulations allowed her to warp Akros little by little, until people’s worship shifted from Iroas… to her.

Statues once depicting proud Iroas now displayed an immense woman with arms splayed out. Before her would often be a sundial, typically with too many prongs or cracked in some way. Talbos had taken over Akros, and the hooded Titan revelled in the new changes.

Athreos had been the first to find the Titan. The flow from life to death is a singular path-- sure, citizens of Theros could Return, but that was a singular path as well. His domain was rigid order, if of a kind that was so often messy for mortals.

Talbos perverted that order-- her idle manipulations of the thread of life caused a trail of spirits to appear around Athreos and for dozens of others to disperse from the Underworld, suddenly alive once more. The Shroud-Veiled creeped from his rivers and into the upper world. The passage of death was one thing-- it could be bent. The passage of time was another-- bending it would be catastrophic in a way none could grasp fully.

Only the most desperate meddled in time travel-- or the foolish.

“Klothys,” Athreos said in a raspy voice, “I will hold her for a time. Theros has not deserved the service you did for it. I understand your position.”

He dissolved into dark-golden light and trailed out from the Underworld and towards Akros.

“I also have a thankless job.”

***

Talbos appeared small, but this was merely one in a long line of deceptions she employed. The elderly woman cloaked in gray wandered through Akros, witnessing its descent into chaos. Tweaks through the history muddled their minds and brought battalions to their knees. The Titan cackled devilishly as she went.

Until she felt the cold, clammy chill of the grave surround her in a silvery mist.

A man stood in Akros. Not a man, rather, but man-shaped. He wore a hood and gown, but his chest and arms were bare-- revealing his pale gray pallor and lithe form. His ashen clothing glittered with golden constellations. 

He was Athreos, Shroud-Veiled. He was Athreos, God of Passage. He was Athreos, Unknown but Unafraid. 

“You’re familiar,” Talbos said, “I remember feeling your essence close by, during times when our jailer had left us in disarray.”

Athreos brought up his oar and approached Talbos at a steady pace, almost leisurely. His demeanor did not embody leisure, however-- it embodied steady determination. Shoulders back, arms taut. 

“No words for me?” Talbos asked.

She reached over and snapped her fingers. The air shimmered, and a dozen Akroan soldiers appeared-- their recent histories altered to bring them altogether here. Talbos snapped her fingers again, but Athreos struck his oar against the ground. The air stopped shimmering. 

He would not speak with her.

He had a job to do.

And talking to her would not help him complete that job.

His oar was knocked back and the shimmer rippled further, washing over the Akroan soldiers, whose eyes lit up with harsh visions of torment-- seemingly at the hands of Athreos. Athreos sighed wearily as the mortals began to bear down on him with sword and shield. So much of Theros was being lost to these mad Titans. He did not want to be part of that procession. His job was to usher the already-dead, not to cull them himself.

Still. It was his job to correct the Passage, be it from life to death or time itself.

And so Time struggled with Passage. 

Fortunately for Athreos, he wouldn’t have to deal with any but Time’s Betrayal. Launched ahead of the other gods was Elspeth, Eutropia, and Daxos. The three humans dropped down in front of Athreos, weapons drawn. Elspeth stuck Khrusor into the air and shone the Sun itself, blinding the Akroans. Eutropia raised her hands high, and the vision of a great wave surrounded the soldiers. They flew away raised on the semi-visible tidal wave. 

“Priest and little godlings,” Athreos said in a long, rattling voice, “My thanks.”

Daxos blinked. Elspeth hunched her shoulders-- the threat loomed high above her, though Athreos certainly did not intend as much. 

Talbos, for her part, cracked her knuckles and grinned. Her yellow eyes flickered with power as five monsters sprang into existence around her, retroactively trained and guided to her side. Karametra, Iroas, and Ephara arrived in great flashes of light. They each struck and slayed one monster as soon as they arrived. Talbos snarled.

Karametra raised her sickle, Iroas his spear, and Ephara her pithos. Talbos raised into the sky, her true form giving way. The Titan’s cloak shredded around her as she grew and grew and grew. Thick, ropy vines fell from her head, dozens of feet long each. Her colors shifted and faded-- green, then blue, then white, then red, then black and then back through but at random. Her arms and legs oscillated from thick and muscular to thin and stringy at strange, erratic intervals.

“We’ve already killed one Titan,” Elspeth said.

The Sun’s Nemesis lashed out and skewered one of the remaining monsters, blasting pure light into the fifth. Talbos stomped the ground and Elspeth only narrowly avoided getting crushed.

“Hunger is one thing,” Talbos snarled, “Any can slake their Hunter! Time cannot be dealt with. You cannot _ plead _ with Time, and you cannot just STAB IT UNTIL IT GOES AWAY!”

“We’ll see,” Daxos said.

Talbos’s eyes flashed, and Daxos fell to the ground. His body started to shift, losing its shining pallor and gaining a graying pallor. Athreos slammed his oar down in front of the demigod and the changes stopped. 

“Stay behind us,” Karametra said to the demigod calmly.

“We’ll try to contain her power,” Ephara said, “You wear her down.”

Athreos nodded. Karametra, Ephara, and Iroas each moved to surround Talbos, forming a triangle around the Titan. Daxos stood by Karametra, while Eutropia stayed by Ephara. Their hands were clasped in fervent prayer.

Talbos struck out at Athreos and the calm god met her. Their hands clasped one another’s and they pushed. Their heels dug into the very earth. Athreos’s raspy breath rattled out, while Talbos loudly grunted and snarled. The air shimmered and monsters began sprouting once more. 

“Nothing you do will be enough,” Talbos snarled, “Do you think Kroxa will stay dead? Do you think _ Hunger _ will ever go away? That _ Nature _ will cease its wrath? That Life will be content to rest on its laurels rather than _ take viciously what is not given it _?”

Athreos dug his heels in, as the Titan pressed her great heft. The Ferryman began to sink into the ground. Elspeth snarled and sought to press up against the Titan, but more monsters birthed around her. Serpents and leucocrota and chimeras… Her light shone bright, but the darkness was growing faster.

Daxos and Eutropia ran free of the gods they stood by and struck out with streaming lights of magic. Before they could reach Elspeth, Talbos growled, the air shimmered, and the two of them vanished.

“NO!” Elspeth howled. 

Her power surged, and the world was filled with blinding light. When it eroded, the monsters had gone. Elspeth stood with a town cloak, golden horns shining from her forehead. Khrusor crackled with power. Talbos glared at her briefly but continued pushing down on Athreos. The Ferryman buckled and fell to one knee.

“I’ll crush every one of you,” Talbos snarled, “Nothing can stop me. GIVE IN TO ME NOW, SO THAT YOU WILL AT LEAST DIE WELL-RESTED!”

A massive plume of smoke struck the ground and converted into Erebos, already in motion. A whip encircled the Titan’s neck and yanked. Talbos howled and stumbled backwards, without ever losing her grip in full. Three shots from a rushing Nylea did the trick-- Talbos let go. Snarling, she clapped her hands together. The air shimmered and rippled out in full, beginning to go back out beyond Akros. 

Three more streams of energy struck the ground in the circle of outer gods. Mogis, Pharika, and Phenax took places in the triangle-- Phenax opposite Ephara, Mogis opposite Iroas, and Pharika opposite Karametra. 

“We can’t hold her,” Ephara said.

“Let’s give you a hand,” Phenax said, “Not that you _ deserve _ it, hm?”

Ephara winced but nodded.

Mogis raised his axe, Pharika her censer, and Phenax his dagger. The air lost its shimmer, and Talbos growled as her power was pushed back. Athreos rushed forward and they clasped again, grappling furiously as they fought once more.

“_ We _ control Theros,” Pharika said, “ _ We _ decide its paths.”

“None control Theros!” Talbos snarled, “This world is beyond your reckoning.”

Athreos began sinking again, his arms shaking beneath Talbos’s steady force. More streams of light, more gods. Keranos streamed in as a bolt of lightning that struck Talbos before taking a spot. Kruphix streamed past in blue-green light and whispered something in Athreos’s ear. The God of Passage strengthened with the secret, and pushed harder. Purphoros and Thassa whipped by, harpoon and hammer finding a mark in the Titan before they too took a spot.

“All the other Titans have fallen,” Elspeth snarled, “And you will, too. THE PEOPLE OF THEROS WILL HAVE HOPE!”

“Dead for now,” Talbos hissed, “But not for long.”

Her gaze latched on the Planeswalker and her yellow eyes shone bright. Elspeth stepped back, holding up Khrusor. Her form flickered-- losing Khrusor for a moment, losing the golden horns, shifting into something _ more _ like Heliod, before the changes vanished. Elspeth Tirel stood, untouched. Talbos pushed harder on Athreos, but the God of Passage would give no more.

“Why… why can’t I _ fix _ you, little creature?” Talbos said, “I will _ fix _ all of Theros.”

“I am not from Theros,” Elspeth said, “Even a force as great as you can only affect your own world. My time is my own. But your time is over.”

Elspeth launched through the air and shoved Khrusor into Talbos’ chest. Light poured deep into the Titan’s body, and Athreos stepped up from his kneeling pose. The God of Passage pushed, and pushed, and pushed. Talbos fell back, further and further. 

And so Time had come against Theros. It ground away at them individually, but on the whole, Theros had never had much use for Time. It was so quick to change the present into history and history into myth. And so Theros fought back.

“NO!” Talbos howled.

She found herself in the center of the gods’ circle, streams of light connecting them, looking so much like… thread…

One more god arrived. 

With four arms she seized Talbos from behind.

With thousands of streams of thread, she encircled Talbos, leaving a spot for Elspeth to escape. Ichor poured from the wound left by Khrusor, even as more light surged into it. The Titan screamed as Athreos and Klothys trapped her.

And so Destiny met Time, and she found her _ lacking _.

“Theros is beyond our control,” Klothys said, “We are but its tools. However, Theros has already set upon its destiny. Long ago, Theros made a decision that was shaped into a god! Those words are not written upon my essence-- they ARE my essence!”

Athreos pulled back and scooped up Elspeth. He took his place in the circle and cupped his hands fully around the Planeswalker.

Just in time, as Klothys’s fire filled the circle. Vengeant fire of a furious rise. 

“THEROS’S DESTINY WILL NOT END IN A DEAD WORLD!” Klothys cried.

Talbos screamed and screamed. Even through the torrent of flame, her shadow was visible… and then it was gone, her screams dying with her. The flames flickered out, and Klothys stood alone in the center. 

All around the gods was Akros, where thousands of citizens had gathered. Cheers rose up slowly from those among them. The gods looked at one another, and for a moment, their feuds were forgotten-- unnecessary. Elspeth felt tears welling up as they realized they had done it. The danger had passed, and Theros would be safe.

For a little while.

Mogis and Iroas would fight again soon. They had clasped hands, but even now, a little of Mogis’s snarl had come back. All the god would squabble again in months-- it was just their nature. Theros’s destiny was not to end in a dead world, but it would not be frozen like this, as in amber. That, too, would be a dead world.

But that could come later. For now, there was only room for happiness.

Although she still felt a dread of the place welling up inside her, she felt herself drawn back to the world. Elspeth walked over to Eutropia and hugged the priestess tight.

“Thank you for everything,” Elspeth said.

“To you as well,” Eutropia said, “I would still be trapped in the darkness, if not for you.”

They held each for a moment longer, then broke off. Eutropia walked over to where Thassa and Nylea stood, her hands clasped in fervent prayer. For her part, Elspeth walked over to Daxos. The demigod was talking gloomily with Ephara, the two seeming pained in their discussion, but not aggrieved with the other.

Ephara glanced up to see Elspeth approaching and reached up a massive finger to point her way. Daxos looked around, then froze. He said something quickly, and the God of the Polis nodded with a knowing smile. She went off to speak with Phenax.

“I’m not really a fan of big parties,” Elspeth said.

Daxos laughed.

“Yes, my last one didn’t go so well,” he said.

A month, even a week ago, that would have hurt. A painful reminder of one of the worst moments in Elspeth’s life-- practically a series of worst moments itself. But it only made Elspeth grin now. She focused on better things.

“Come on,” Elspeth said, “Let’s go for a walk.”

***

They wandered for hours, out from Akros towards the rolling plains that surrounded it. Much of it was spent talking about what had happened, the things they had done and experienced. It should have been hard, but Elspeth enjoyed it. It no longer pained her. She was with Daxos, and she was happy.

Except for the Sun, which felt harsh on her back, and some part of her knew this wouldn’t last.

But it could last a little while longer. 

They found a tent on the top of a hill. Elspeth saw a sigil of Nylea and Thassa and arched a brow. Eutropia had an interesting way of repaying favors. 

“Is this yours?” Daxos asked.

“I think so,” Elspeth said.

They found some foodstuffs inside-- bread, olives, dried meats. Elspeth feasted hungrily, and it tasted better than anything she’d had even in Ilysia. She and Daxos joked and talked through the low light of dusk, before climbing into the tent for the evening.

After the longest day of her life, Elspeth had what felt like both the longest and shortest night of her life. It wasn’t until the sun had crested well over the horizon and was approaching the midpoint in its arc that a bleary, partially rested Elspeth stirred from her tent. She saw a vast silhouette overshadowing the tent. A yawning Elspeth sat up and slipped on a cotton undershirt. She slid out of the tent to see Klothys again, although the god had chosen to appear in her full glory. 

The god might have been dozens of feet tall standing-- she was currently sitting down and continuing her weaving. The strands were still fine to Elspeth’s eyes, and she idly wondered how the god worked with such delicate material. It was then that she made the connection.

“Calix,” Elspeth said quietly, “He was yours, right?”

Klothys smiled at the name, but Elspeth noticed the gentle grin did not reach her eyes (covered as they were).

“Yes,” Klothys said simply, “He is.”

Elspeth tilted her head.

“You helped burn the Titans. You were on our side.”

Klothys let out that low, ringing, _ motherly _ chuckle again and Elspeth felt that familiar pang.

“Yes,” she said, “I am.”

Elspeth shook her head, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Calix fought me the whole way through the Underworld. He slowed me down by hours, if not a full day. Countless hundreds might have died while I wasted time fighting him! Why would you slow me down if you were on our side?”

Klothys took her covered gaze from the weaving before her and looked towards Elspeth.

“You understand how devotion works on Theros, yes?”

Elspeth paused. It was an intuitive rule, though it might not be as evident to those who lived on Theros their whole lives. After all, a fish doesn’t realize it lives in water.

“Then you must understand that to allow your spear to blossom into its necessary godlike form, you required an audience.”

It made enough sense, but a calm rage still stirred in Elspeth’s heart at the thought that Klothys might have cost lives. Yet she was tired. She’d been fighting for a long time, and Elspeth had long ago figured out which battles were worth the struggle. This wasn’t one. So she reached a hand behind her neck and massaged a knot gently. A long moment passed in strange silence.

“Were you just here to tell me that?” she asked.

Klothys resumed her careful weaving. 

“No. I’m here to ask a favor. Not that I have the right, but I would hope Theros’s champion might afford this mother a mercy,” Klothys said gently.

Something pulled on Elspeth’s heart, but she was not so easy to trust. Not a god. Not again.

“Is this about Calix?” Elspeth asked.

Klothys nodded and let out something like a sigh. Wisps of flame danced to life around her as she strung together her tapestry. It unrolled from her hand and the sight of it took Elspeth’s breath away. It was covered in gorgeous images of Klothys, the Titans, and, to Elspeth’s shock, Xenagos.

“Xenagos pulled on my power when he ascended to godhood, but when he died, all of his essence was swallowed into mine when my power returned. Including a curious little immaterial thing I could not name. A glowing piece of essence that scared me, because it could not be bound by Theros’s destiny. The strange thing which burns in your soul.”

Klothys’s gaze hammered at Elspeth but she did not shrink from the feeling. She met Klothys’s gaze.

“A spark.”

Klothys nodded.

“I had no use for it. In fact, I wanted it gone. I can only guide the destiny of Theros and those living there. I raised a boy and a satyr with the intentions of promoting great things, but they left, and the tears they have left in the stitching are still unpatched.”

Elspeth felt her eyes drawn to an image of a broad-shouldered man with a sural standing back-to-back against a feral satyr. She recognized Xenagos immediately. The other was familiar, but she had never met the man in the flesh. Elspeth glanced back towards Klothys.

“So you want me to stay a while… and help you repair destiny?”

The notion repulsed her. There was this biting godhood nipping at her heels, trying desperately to crown her, and she could not be rid of it fast enough… 

Klothys’s mouth turned down and Elspeth could feel her radiate obvious discomfort at the notion. Something roiled in her gut.

“Absolutely not. I want you to leave as soon as possible and never return. Planeswalkers grate against my pattern so casually it is unsettling,” Klothys said firmly, “And I do not think you would want to be a god.”

Elspeth couldn’t say she really faulted Klothys, but being told to leave just riled up her instincts to stay. The warning about becoming a god chilled her, however. Klothys’s shoulders relaxed a little and the god did not seem so dangerously confrontational.

“No, Elspeth Tirel, even if I liked your kind, I would not ask you to stay. You would not be happy unless you were fighting for those who needed a hero… And there is a boy out there who could use a hero.”

Something struck deep within Elspeth’s spirit, and her eyes narrowed.

“...Wait, where is Calix?” she asked.

Klothys met the Planeswalker’s suspicious gaze.

“He is not on Theros.”

Elspeth’s gut churned. Her mind flitted over Klothys’s words and she seized on one line. It clicked, and her eyes widened.

“You wove him from Xenagos’s essence?” she nearly shouted.

“I did. He does not know in full his origins, but he has felt betrayed by me, as he should. You being a hero who was betrayed by a god might relate to his plight. Give him guidance, if you can find him. Never encourage him to return here. I love him with all of my being, but I cannot have him here.”

Wracked with this strange revelation, Elspeth stared up at the god. She had the curious sensation of lifting up before realizing Klothys was shrinking. 

“I don’t understand,” she said.

Klothys continued speaking as she shrank to a normal human height. She pulled to her feet even as she shifted size and began walking towards Elspeth.

“Few understand destiny. It is not a simple road but a long, winding path that often doubles back on itself as it twists and turns through the thoroughfares of life. That is what makes one’s destiny worth living out,” Klothys responded, “Calix’s life is complicated, and it will be hard, because all life is hard. But I want… I want it to be easier, if it can be. I want him to _ love _ his life, just as I love mine, hard as it may be.”

The god was now mere inches taller than Elspeth and mere inches away from the Planeswalker. She reached one hand out and placed it on Elspeth’s shoulder. The Planeswalker felt herself freeze as she saw the tears running down the god’s face.

_ Just as I love mine _.

Elspeth Tirel stared into the face of a god who had spent eons fighting Titans in the darkness, her work ignored, her temples abandoned. And she still loved every ounce of her life. She had created herself a child and sent him away, and she still loved her life. Elspeth had never seen anything like it, had never _ felt _ in such a way. Though she was beginning to understand it, and that thought comforted her. 

“I beg you, Elspeth Tirel, to go where I cannot and make sure my child is okay.”

Klothys’s hand fell away, but Elspeth reached up and grabbed it in hers. Visions of people who needed her filled her mind, but this would be simple enough.

“There are many things I have to do when I leave-- many places that… need my help. But, when I can, _ if _ I can, I will do this, for one thing in return.”

“Name it, and if it is within my power, it is yours.”

Elspeth felt the air between them rumble and knew the god’s promise was binding.

“Tell me what will become of Daxos.”

Klothys shook for a moment, and Elspeth realized she was smiling.

“I have taken extra special care of his destiny, Tirel. He is already half-god, and in Heliod’s absence, I believe… a kinder Sun is on the horizon. His life will be complicated and hard, but it shall be rewarding.”

Elspeth let out a shuddering breath. The devotion would leave her. It would not go to waste.

“Then I will leave here with no worries,” she said quietly.

Klothys squeezed Elspeth’s hand comfortingly and let go. The god vanished in golden light. Elspeth walked by the tent and sat down on the ground to look over the great rolling hills. 

It was a gorgeous sight. One Elspeth would never forget. 

***

Daxos stirred in his tent. Elspeth was there, sitting beside him. Her fingers gently ran through his hair. 

“I love you, Daxos.”

Her voice was calm. If Daxos had not known her better, he would have missed the minor undercurrent of urgency. He began to sit up, looking quizzically at Elspeth. Dread filled his heart.

“You’re saying goodbye,” Daxos said.

“Theros cannot be my home,” Elspeth said, “I’ve beaten two gods here, one dead and one imprisoned. Many will try to kill me because they either loved Heliod or simply out of a loyalty to the natural order of things. Many will try to worship me, and I… I cannot even conceive of how to feel about that.”

Daxos stared up at Elspeth, struggling to think of a plea while knowing nothing would be good enough. He sighed.

“I wish it wasn’t so,” Daxos said, “I love you, Elspeth, and I want nothing but the best for you. When are you leaving?”

Elspeth leaned forward, her eyes locked on Daxos’s. He could feel her warmth, inches away, and leaned in to meet her. Their eyes closed as they kissed. Daxos could feel the desperate hunger in Elspeth as she pressed against him, as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping her from drowning. 

A strange prickling erupted along Daxos’s skin, but he didn’t open his eyes, he just pressed against her tighter… until she was gone. The warmth of her still lingered, and Daxos struggled to open his eyes, hated the thought of seeing the world without Elspeth.

She was gone. A shuddering gasp ripped through Daxos and he clenched his hands into fists.

“Goodbye,” he whispered, “Elspeth Tirel. I’ll never forget you.”

***

Elspeth left her tears in the Blind Eternities as she streaked far away from Theros. She had done everything she could for that world, and it was time for her to move on. There would be other worlds, other places to save, other people to love.

There would never be another Daxos.

But she would not have any more regrets about that. Just as Theros was headed towards a brighter Sun, Elspeth was heading towards a brighter tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This has been an absolute blast to write, very fun and rewarding. I've loved the comments I've gotten on here and in other venues. It's meant a lot to be a more active part of the Vorthos community, and I'm glad my contribution has been accepted and enjoyed so heartily. 
> 
> BIG BIG thanks to StubHub for not only writing some of this story but also helping work through some plot details to strengthen Elspeth's character arc. And big thanks to everyone who left kudos or comments-- it really helped spur this on faster!
> 
> I'd love to do more stories set on Theros or just following Calix in the future, and may return to both! But for now, I'll be turning my eyes elseward. Hey, that Ikoria book is coming out soon! Hopefully that signals a greater story presence from WOTC. :)


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